


A Place to Hide

by dovingbird



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Aggressive!Phil, F/M, FaithStruggling!Colton, M/M, Multi, Post-Idol, Sexual!Elise, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 126,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after American Idol Season 11, Colton's sister has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and he begins a painful struggle with his faith in God. Elise is working as a bartender and quietly trying to forget a one-night-stand with Phil, even in the midst of a whirlwind of social backlash regarding her active sexuality in her small town. Phil is pressured by his manager to release a second album immediately, regardless of how ready it is, and facing a massive strain on his relationship with Hannah. As all three of them begin to fall apart, a week-long beach house reunion with other Season 11 contestants brings them all together, and it's only inevitable that these three instead collapse into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We’re festering.”

Colton glanced out from behind his arm, quirking a brow.

“We’re FESTERING, Colton, and it’s atrocious.”

He smiled. “I didn’t even know you knew those words.”

Elise sent a pillow flying across the room, but it bounced ineffectively on the floor. “Just because some of us didn’t spend the tour reading the dictionary-”

“That was ONE time!”

“-doesn’t mean we’re idiots.”

He grinned and tossed his forearm over his eyes again. “Yeah, yeah…” They lapsed back into silence, Elise painting her nails and Colton daydreaming on the couch, before he sighed. “Well. If we’re festering, what do you have in mind?”

“Another tour would be nice,” she mused.

“Live! is over, Elise, and I don’t have an album out yet. Do you?”

She was quiet. It only took him a few seconds to realize why. “Not all of us got offers right off the bat after the show.”

“I know, I know.” He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk.”

“Which is a sign of festering, you know.” He could hear a smile on her voice, which made him both relieved and unsure. She had an incredible sense of humor and it kept her laughing through everything that happened on American Idol, stressful or not, but it also meant that Colton had no idea when he actually hurt her feelings.

“Are you really leaving tomorrow?”

“I have to. If my folks don’t see my face soon, they’re gonna forget what it looks like.”

She chuckled. “Or you just hate my cooking.”

“Shh…” The sound morphed into a laugh of his own.

Truth be told, he felt a little more awkward here with each passing day. It wasn’t Elise’s fault…or, rather, it wasn’t something she could help. When she’d invited him to stay at her apartment for the week to clear his head (read: help her write a few songs she was having lyric issues with), she’d had no idea just how utterly appealing she would be to watch in her own home.

“Well…I guess I can let you go if I have to.” And then she quieted again, and Colton could practically read her thoughts before she said them. “Are you…ready, do you think?”

His body reacted before his mind. “Yeah. Yeah, totally.” He was on his feet and heading to the kitchen before he was even aware of thinking. “You mind if I steal a Coke?”

“Go ahead,” she murmured. “You know you don’t even have to ask. You’re like family now.”

He paused beside the fridge, inhaling deeply as he dug his fingers into the door handle. Whether she meant to wound him or not, he wasn’t sure. But she had. He felt his heart splitting right in his chest. When he finally opened the fridge, he felt as cold as the air striking him in the face. “Same here, Elise. Hey, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

He sighed softly as he popped the top on his can. She hadn’t meant anything by it, he was almost completely certain, and of all people SHE didn’t need to think that something was wrong.

Elise was appealing to watch here, he admitted it, but not for the reasons that one might think. She was a beautiful woman with a striking voice and a million watts of luminescent talent, but that didn’t make her irresistible to him. What did was the fact that her life was so utterly uncomplicated when she was at home.

“Where are you going after you head home?” she called, and he let himself be lured back into the living room.

“I’m not sure.” Colton plopped down on the couch again. “I’m not really thinking that far ahead yet. Just trying to take it one day at a time, you know?”

“That’s a pretty good idea.” He watched as she abandoned the nail polish, her eyes dancing to the side. “Who HAVE you gone to see?”

American Idol Live! might be over, even a YEAR over, but Colton was finishing out this year with a tour of his own. Home was a risky, dangerous place right now, and even thinking about it seriously made his skin feel raw and newly burned. It meant a little couch-surfing for a few weeks, but there was some goodness in that, he decided. It gave him time to prepare. “Let’s see…you, Jessica, Skylar, and Joshua.”

“No Phil?”

He eyed her. “That boy’s not going to have any time to relax for the next five or six years.”

“I guess you’re right.” She blew on her fingernails and studied them closely. “It sucks, though.”

“Why? He’s living the dream. He’s gonna make more money than all of us combined,” he said with a smile.

“Because Erika wants to get the gang together again next summer. We won’t have a tour ever again, she said, so we might as well all make our own fun if we have the time.”

Next summer. It felt like a world away. Colton lay back on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair with a soft whistle. “Wow. What’s she got in mind?”

Elise shrugged. “We’re not sure yet. She figures we might wanna wait to make plans, maybe see if anyone else gets a record deal that’d interfere with us partying for a week or two.” She lifted a finger as carefully as if she was about to defuse a time bomb and slowly, slowly, pressed down on one of her nails. When her finger came up clean and dry, she perked up with a bright grin. “I’m gonna try and throw the beach in for consideration. We might as well get tans.”

“Tans?” He laughed and closed his eyes. “Elise, I don’t even know if I’m capable of tanning.”

“Well, you can try,” she reasoned. “We’ll slather you up in baby oil and release you into the wild. You’re bound to get a little glow.”

“Crazy women.”

“How unfortunate that it’s in your genes to love us.”

Simple conversation. A simple life. He wanted that - GOD, how he wanted to have that - right now. But it only served as a cheap reminder that he didn’t.

Elise leaned forward in her chair and reached a hand toward Colton, resting it on his knee. “Listen, Colton, I…I just wanted to say that if you end up needing someplace to stay again, my apartment's always open to you.”

He felt himself slowly tensing. He stared at the floor.

“I know how it feels. I mean…I guess I really don’t. I’ve never had something like this happen to me. But I can imagine, you know? And I know how tempting it’s gonna be to stay close to home right now, but…but I don’t want you to drive yourself crazy.”

He couldn’t breathe. Sweat broke out down his spine and soaked straight through his t-shirt and he fought the chill.

“You don’t have the power to change this. But I want you to remember that Someone does. I know I don’t need to be saying this to you, of all people, but just…trust God, okay? And He can make something happen.”

He exploded out of his skin and onto his feet. “Thank you, Elise. Thank you. I’ve got to see if I finished packing.”

“Colton-”

He disappeared into her guest bedroom and shut the door behind him, pressing his body against it with deep, ragged breaths. His crucifix necklace burned against his skin, and he ripped it out from under his shirt with a gasp.

 _Our God is an awesome God,_ he thought. But that didn’t stop Him from giving baby sisters cancer, did it?

He fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket and rolled through his phone book until he reached his mom’s phone number. He did a little math. It was Saturday. The doctor appointment was at noon, and it was five o’clock now. With any luck, it’d be over and they’d be home. And, more importantly, Schyler would be resting. He dialed the number and listened to the phone ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, son. How are you?”

He slid down the door and sat on the floor with a quiet sigh. “I’m good. Elise is keeping me busy. I don’t know if she’s ready to let me go home yet.”

His mother laughed appreciatively. “No surprise there. You always told me how well you both got on during the tour.”

“She’s a good woman. She’s trying to fatten me up.” He smiled despite himself.

“Well, I wish her better luck than I’ve had over the past twenty-something years, then.”

Colton chuckled and closed his eyes. He could almost picture his mom right now. She was probably sitting in the living room, a magazine half-open on the cushion next to her, a roast cooking away in the crockpot. It was Schyler’s favorite. His smile melted away. “How’d the appointment go?”

“About as well as can be expected. We’re still trying to figure out exactly what treatments Schyler’s going to take.”

“What’re the choices?”

“The most likely ones right now seem to be chemotherapy to start and several doses of radiation afterward.”

Chemotherapy he knew about, but with radiation he was still in the dark. The name was disconcerting enough to make him decide he’d ask about it later. “Have you set a date for the surgery yet?”

“Two weeks from today.”

A week and a half after Christmas, then. Geez. He rubbed his eyes and sighed softly. “How’s she holding up?”

“Better than I expected.” His mom dropped her tone to a low murmur, so he could barely hear her. “I think she’s more scared of the mastectomy than she is of the chemo or radiation. You know how she is about knives.”

Oh, didn’t he. Schyler’s dramatic fear of sharp things getting a little too close to her skin was the stuff of Dixon family legend. She still eyed steak knives with distrust when they went out to eat. He stared at the wall, his fingers trying ineffectively to pluck a handful of his skinny jeans into his palm. “Is she asleep?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Did you want to talk to her?”

His conscience told him that the right answer to give would be the truth. But he was compelled by brotherly instinct to lie instead. “Yeah.”

“All right, let me go check on her.”

As he listened to his mother climb the stairs, he kept quiet just as she did. They weren’t many things they could discuss in the wake of this and they both knew it. Instead, he closed his eyes and pictured his sister next. Reddish hair straight around her face, maybe limp from not being washed that morning. Purple bags under her eyes. Pale skin hidden beneath an artificial blush. His mind conjured her at her computer, where she was no doubt scouring the Internet for research about breast cancer like it was going to change anything.

Colton decided a few weeks ago, the very day that Schyler pulled their mother aside and confided about the strange lump she felt while in the shower, never to do his own research. He really didn’t need to know the statistics.

“Schyler, it’s Colton.” His mother’s voice dragged him back to the present. “Do you want to-”

Before their mother could even finish her sentence, Schyler’s voice appeared on the line. “Colton?”

“Hey, sis.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic. Just about to finish packing for tomorrow.”

She sighed. “You really don’t need to come home this soon, you know that, right? Seriously. We’ve got this under control and all.”

This wasn’t the first time that she’d made such a statement, but he still couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not. He went with the safest choice. “Schyler, I WANT to. I haven’t seen you guys for a month or two, and…”

“…and yeah,” she finished for him. Silence stretched out on the line for a long moment before she sighed. “How’s Elise?”

“About the same as always.”

“What’s she doing these days?”

“Working nights at a bar when she doesn't have a gig. Apparently she mixes mad drinks.”

“I bet she does.” And she was smiling again, just like that. “You should bring her home with you.”

“That would be weird,” he chuckled.

Somewhere along the show, Schyler had developed a strange fascination with Elise for reasons that Colton still couldn’t quite figure out. It was something about her stature, Schyler insisted, the way she carried herself, the way she wasn’t afraid to sound so different from everyone else, but every time that Colton looked at Elise and tried to see things the way Schyler did, he was left coming up with nothing. Elise was Elise, and he respected her the same way he did everyone else. Nothing more, nothing less.

He listened to Schyler chuckle quietly as well. This was easy. It’d be all too easy to keep going on in the same vein. But he felt a sudden compulsion to resist the easy way. Wasn’t his entire faith been about living the hard life, taking the road less traveled, and standing where no one else dared to stand? He began to finger his necklace again as he spoke. “Schyler, how are you? I mean…really.”

“For God’s sake, Colt,” she said. “I’m not dead yet.”

He sat up so quickly that he nearly ripped the necklace from his neck. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m just saying I’m tired of people asking me that stuff. I’m just like you’d think: nervous about the surgery, nervous about the treatments, nervous about the recovery rate. The doctors keep telling me that I’m young and that I could’ve had it a heck of a lot worse and all, but there’s still the check-ups over the next few years to see if it comes back, and hoping that it hasn’t spread anywhere else like my lymph nodes, or-”

“Are you scared?” he suddenly asked, his voice a soft and broken whisper.

Schyler was quiet for a moment. And then she sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m serious. It doesn’t. God’s going to get me through this, Colton. He said that He’d never leave us nor forsake us, remember? So I’m gonna trust Him just like He told me to. All I need you to do is pray. Okay?”

He wanted to throw up. “Okay.”

“I’ve gotta go, all right? Dinner’s almost ready. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I won’t be late.”

“Good. Mom’s already planning your welcome home feast,” Schyler teased with a smile.

He forced a chuckle. “Of course she is.”

“I love you, bro.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

He flipped his cellphone shut and dropped it into his lap, eyes immediately lifting to the sky. Pray. She wanted him to pray, and that was all.

Verses from his Bible flitted to and fro in his head, but he couldn’t grab them. He thought of coming to his knees by the bed, but he couldn’t move. Finally he settled for slumping further and further, until he was lying flat on his back on the floor. And then he listened.

God was curiously quiet tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

There was never a more fragile person to hug than Colton Dixon. Elise watched his Jeep pull away from her apartment and she wondered at the strange emptiness in her arms as she wrapped them around herself. He was tough, she knew that, but just before he left she’d felt him sag into her arms, as if he was giving up the ghost. And then he’d straightened up, given her a smile and an affectionate tug of her hair, and vanished.

She tightened her arms around her waist. She missed him already.

She thought about that parting hug as she went through the rest of her day’s preparations for work. She spread on smoky eyeshadow and thought of the thinness of his arms. She smoothed down her shirt and remembered the brittleness of his ribs. She rubbed her glossy lips together and recalled the haunted look in his eyes just as he broke away.

_Come back,_ she wanted to say. _Come back and let me take care of you. You’re not well._ And he wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. The apartment had thin walls. If one of its occupants was regularly having nightmares, it could be heard easily.

Guilt clawed at her chest, and she leaned over her vanity with a heavy sigh. She’d fought with herself every night, wondering if she should get up and wake him, if she should smooth his hair away from his forehead, if she should crawl into bed behind him and spoon up close.

And then she’d remember what inappropriate behavior was defined as and would simply roll over and try to block out his cries.

It was pretty easy to see that she would be useless if she tried to help someone anyway. There wasn’t any point in trying again.

Her chest suddenly swelled in panic and she shoved away from her vanity. When the past was after her, when it was trying to choke her like a weed, she had one solace, and she walked unsteadily toward it now: her keyboard. She wasn’t a regular concert pianist, certainly, but she could thank Coastal Carolina University for forcing piano lessons on her on top of her regular course load as someone majoring in music. It meant her visual-learning side could map out chords quickly and easily for the few songs she was still struggling to write.

She plopped down at the keyboard and sighed, reaching to rub her eyes before she remembered the makeup caked on them and letting her hands drop uselessly to the keys instead. The problem with not being a natural songwriter, she decided, was the fact that every song you wrote had to be analyzed and reanalyzed over and over again before it could even be dubbed satisfactory. And then it had to be studied and shifted until it could be called good. In the time that someone like, say, Colton Dixon or Phil Phillips, could write three catchy, perfect songs, she could have one decent piece completed, one that would fall behind in seconds.

Her fingers instinctively curled into familiar chords and pressed down gently, letting a happy major sound fill the air. Her entire body sagged into the music, into the pleasure, into the /feeling/…and those inferiorities dripped away and fell to the floor.

Maybe the thing she loved most about music was that it didn’t matter who was better, who was more commercial, or even who was making the most money, really. What mattered most was the deep, feral reaction that every human being had to it, something that nothing, not even evolution, could even begin to explain. It was magical and vibrant. It was necessary. And, when it came right down to it, it was an escape.

It was exactly what she needed.

Her phone jiggled in her pocket and she jolted, eyes immediately snapping toward the clock. Well, look at that. It was that time. Thank God for alarms. She hopped to her feet and made for the door as fast as her legs could carry her.

She was always the late one on Idol, she remembered as she climbed into her car. She was the one who'd show up last, sweating and apologetic, and the effect was that everyone else had always wondered if she'd wanted it enough. If she couldn't be there first, like Hollie, then clearly she wasn't made to be the next American Idol. She was just made to be another distant runner-up that people would forget in a matter of weeks, if not months, after the show stopped airing.

Funny, really, the difference between how the contestants were treated on the show. Phil and Heejun could always show up late too, maybe seconds after she did, and they'd get joked with and pushed around and teased. Elise would end up ignored.

As she pulled out onto the street, she tried to push the thoughts away, but inevitably, as always, her mind went right to Phil and stayed with him. She wondered where he was right now. She wondered what he was doing. He'd sent her a sample of one of his new singles about a week earlier, and, as always, she was absolutely astounded by the sheer level of natural talent that the boy had. He was one of those kids who didn't need to try. All he had to do was shrug on his guitar strap and strum a few chords and growl out some words and the world fell at his feet with a limitless supply of money. She envied that about him. The fact that he was easy on the eyes, that didn't hurt, but she had that in spades, and regardless what cynics liked to whine about, appearance wasn't everything in this business.

Youth, maybe. But not appearance.

She pulled around to the back of Red's and nearly tripped trying to climb out of her car as fast as she could. She skittered up the back steps in her clicking stilettos, flung the door open, and came face-to-face with the bar's manager. “Oh, shit-”

“Elise!” Peter crossed his arms tightly over his chest and looked down at her, quirking an eyebrow. “Nice of you to join us today.”

She winced and looked away, nervously patting down her hair. “H-hey, Peter...”

The blond man looked at his wristwatch and hummed in thought. “Huh. Wow. I think you set a new record today.” When he shook his watch in her direction, her cheeks flamed. “This is the closest you've been to the start of your shift since I hired you.”

“I mean, there's...there's always some traffic on Moreland Road.”

“...uh-huh.” His doubtful tone made her shrink a little more into herself, and she found herself praying to God that today wouldn't be the day that Peter's generosity would run out. “Look, this is all I'm gonna say: you're lucky that Heather is even later than you today. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured. She ducked her head and walked past him, heading straight for the bar.

The good thing about this job was how brainless it was. As long as you memorized the recipes for the drinks, you were generally pretty okay until someone showed up with some wacky cocktail they'd concocted at home. You could get through a whole night without much hassle if you stood at the right place, maybe beside Jeremy, the bouncer who had a crush on the other full-time bartender Vanessa. And if you played your cleavage and your heels right, you'd get out with more than decent tips.

She slipped behind the bar, locked her purse up, and began perusing the bottles. Vanessa, for all her good qualities, was also notoriously bad at closing the place down at night. It left Elise with a laundry list of alcohol to request for Peter to grab from the storeroom every time she came to work. She'd taken to keeping a stack of funky-colored Post-It notes to scribble on with her favorite gel pen during the hour before the bar opened for service.

She heard Peter approach the bar and take a seat on one of the stools. “See anything right off the bat?”

“Wouldn't it be better for you if you waited until I made the list?”

“I mean, I'm gonna have to make multiple trips anyway, so I might as well get one out of the way now.”

He had a point. Elise leaned over and ran her fingers over the bottles on the lowest shelf, studying their fill lines as she went. “...Well tequila...Jack...pretty much every single kind of vodka we have...” When Peter didn't respond she glanced over her shoulder and caught him perusing her figure for half a second before meeting her gaze. He didn't look away. He left her to do so, her cheeks flushing.

“That it?”

“To start,” she said softly, standing straight and tucking her blonde curls behind her ear self-consciously.

“All right. Be back in a minute.”

Peter disappeared, and Elise kept her eyes on the floor. She waited for the awkwardness, the tight feeling in her chest, to fade away as she nibbled at her bottom lip. Only the taste of her strawberry lip gloss made her stop. When the moment had passed, she wandered to the end of the bar and slid on a pair of gloves. If she had to think, she might as well do it while chopping their supply of fruit for the evening.

Once. She'd slept with Peter once. That was it. It was a terrible mistake, yes, but he was only thirty-two, and he wasn't married, and he'd been a little tipsy. Elise wish she could have said the same about herself. It wasn't that he was unattractive. On the contrary, he had misty gray eyes, blond hair, and a lean figure. But he was her boss. And in the back of her mind, Elise knew that every time he looked at the counter he was wondering when he'd have a chance to take her again.

It wouldn't be so nervewracking if she was sure she'd be able to stop herself next time.

“Here's the first run,” he said as he came out of the storeroom, the bottles clacking together in his arms.

She gave him a grateful smile and took a brief inventory of how much he'd gotten for her. “Thank you.” And then back to the slicing of the pineapple. She wouldn't look at him tonight if she could help it. She'd only call him for the most dire of emergencies.

Peter didn't seem willing to take that lying down, though. He leaned against the bar again, and this time she felt his eyes on her. “Need a hand?”

“No thanks. I think I've got it.”

He hummed softly in acceptance, but he didn't leave. She was sure he had something he could be doing in the office, maybe finishing an order for the next shipment of alcohol they'd receive, maybe looking at applications for the new bouncer they needed, maybe even just putting his feet up and watching TV, but apparently all of those things were worth shunning if he could just stay here and chat with her. Or eye her up. Whichever he liked best. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, and Elise paused, closing her eyes in a moment of mortification.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “After I get out of here, you mean?”

“Yeah. You going somewhere?”

She chuckled, but the nervousness on her tone was easy to hear. “At three in the morning? I don't think so. I need to get home, get some sleep.”

“Mm.”

When he didn't say anything else, she knew what was on his mind, and if the two of them kept beating around the bush they'd never get anywhere. “That's not an invitation, Peter.”

He hesitated for a long moment, just long enough for her to know there was a bomb that was about to drop. “I could help you sleep like a baby.”

She dropped the knife, and it clinked cheerfully on the counter. “Are you sexually harassing me?”

“No!” He sounded so shocked that she almost regretted her words. “Jesus, Elise. I'm just...I'm trying to figure this out.”

Oh, God. She shoved her bangs out of her eyes with her wrist and sighed. “One time, Peter. It was one time.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Listen...” She turned to face him, flustered though she was, and met his eyes. She couldn't let herself be soft when it came to getting something like this across. “You were upset. Okay? Your girlfriend had just left you and you felt like shit and you needed someone to listen to you.” When she shrugged, Peter glanced away. “I gave you what you needed. But it was a one-time thing.”

Peter frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, looking ten years younger than he was in that one moment. “...is it because I'm your boss?”

She shook her head. “No.” When he didn't reply again, she picked up her knife and began rinsing it in the sink. “Please don't bring it up again.”

“...okay.” He stayed for a moment longer. And then the barstool skidded across the floor as he walked quickly back toward the office.

Elise went back to slicing fruit, but only seconds into it she realized just how hard her hands were shaking. She set the knife down and sank against the counter, burying herself in her hair until she could calm her breathing.

This was going to be a long shift.


	3. Chapter 3

That was it.

Seriously.

He meant it this time.

If Phil had to do one more interview where he got drilled about his relationship with Hannah, he was gonna scream.

He sat back in his chair in the studio and exhaled slowly through his nose, rubbing his eyes as he did so. Jesus. Yeah, this was the longest they'd been apart since they started dating. Yeah, it was rough. But who the hell cared? They'd been together for four, almost five, years now. It wasn't like something was suddenly gonna kick it down the drain or whatever.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tugged it out just far enough to glance over the screen. He met his girlfriend's bright eyes and felt his lips pulling into a deeper scowl.

Maybe it was petty, but he'd just spent the last hour and a half talking about her. He was frustrated. He was tired. And he just wanted to go home. Having to talk to her and rehash the entire interview wasn't exactly his idea of relaxing right now, especially if it meant he was going to take out his frustration on her. He hit the button to silence the vibrating and closed his eyes once again.

Distantly he felt aware that he should feel bad for making Hannah nervous when he didn't answer her calls. He  _should._ But he didn't. Feeling bad took too much energy these days, and he needed said energy to work on the tracks for his second album. His manager insisted. His first album had gone over well, yeah, but he couldn't coast on its success. Doing that meant he'd be doomed to lose whatever hint of stardom he'd cultivated for himself without his American Idol roots.

More frustration welled up in his chest, silently choking him. He hated this whole churn-out-as-many-albums-as-you-can-in-the-first-few-years bullshit. No matter how many studies his manager could show him about how this was the best way for him to maintain his success, Phil was left with the awareness that the songs he was hurriedly writing were tanking in comparison to his last album's singles. But there was no reasoning with Jacob. A man who'd been managing for stars as long as he had, he said, knew what was best, and this was it.

“Phil?”

Phil sat up quickly and opened his eyes, blinking blearily. “Yeah?”

Jacob studied him with a flash of sympathy for a moment before jerking his head back toward the studio. “I think they're just about ready for you.”

“Cool.” Phil took a moment to rub his forehead before he heaved himself to his feet. “Cool. What do they wanna work on today?”

“They're thinking the guitar on 'Bones' needs to be tweaked a little more. Maybe add in the vocals after that.” Jacob patted Phil firmly on the back as they headed back the recording technicians that were adjusting things in Pro-Tools and numerous dials, things that Phil could never hope to completely understand. “Now, you're sure you don't want me to call in a guy to do the guitar? Seriously, Phil, I've got a hundred people on speed-dial-”

“It's my song,” Phil murmured, eying Jacob with a degree of coolness. “And I can play it.”

Jacob studied him for a few seconds before he nodded. “All right. Whatever makes you happy.” He smiled down at Phil, a greasy sort of smile that always made Phil wonder what it might feel like to punch him in the face. “Besides, you know your song best.” Two more backpats, and Phil was on his way. “All right, get in there and knock 'em dead. Let's get this thing done in just a couple of takes, yeah?”

Jesus, that would be heaven. As far as he knew, this was the only thing Jacob had scheduled for him to do today. Having the rest of the day off meant he could sleep, play video games, shoot the shit with Heejun on the phone for a little while, anything. The possibilities were endless. He nodded, determined to do whatever it took. “All right. You got it.”

“That's what I like to hear!”

Phil wandered to the stool in the recording chamber and sat on it, picking up the guitar they'd provided for him. He knew his own instrument like it was his own baby, yes, but he'd foolishly left it at his place today, and he wasn't yet enough of a diva to demand that the studio send someone to his apartment to get it just because he was absent-minded. He hoped he'd never get to that point. “Need to check the levels?” he wondered aloud.

There was a click, and he glanced up to see the technician he knew best lean forward over her panel. “Just for a sec. Don't hold back.”

He offered Betsy a smile as he adjusted his feet and legs until he felt most comfortable. “All right,” he drawled. He leaned over the guitar and quietly checked the tuning for a moment. “Here we go.”

He began to strum, each flick of his wrist hard and purposeful, and in the that moment he slowly began to remember why he put up with all this shit in the first place. It was for the three-four time signature, the macabre waltz he was spinning out of minor chords. It was for the tension dripping out of his body through his fingers and into his pick. It was for the heavy dynamics he used to fight over the keening in his head, the quiet groanss that transcended words and oozed into the music instead.

Betsy only gave him six bars before she stopped him and assured that the levels were fine, but Phil could already feel beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He met her eyes behind her thick, hipster glasses for a long moment before he grinned again. “You ready for the first take?” he asked, detecting a hint of cheerfulness behind his accent.

“Ready when you are, darlin',” she drawled back playfully, her gaze drifting back to the levels on her screen.

His grin grew, and he ducked his head to hide it. It wasn't in his genetic code to be bashful, but here it was, making him feel ten years younger. It was stupid. He took a moment, just long enough to get his head back in place, back in the music, before he nodded. Betsy hit a switch, a click sounded three times in his ear, and he played.

He played, all right. He played so hard, so passionately, that the minutes skipped by. He stopped being able to focus on every second, every MINUTE, until everything settled into one fluid movement that carried him into the distance.

He only became fully aware again when it was over. He surfaced when the sun was set and the moon was high and he was packing up, ready to leave. He looked around. Jacob was chatting with the studio owner, an old businessman whose name Phil could never remember, and Betsy was doing a bit of work on the new pieces of track laid for 'Bones.'

He hesitated. And then he crossed the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he went. Betsy glanced up at him and her eyes widened. “I didn't screw up anything too bad, did I?” he asked with a small smile.

She grinned back. “What, are you just _trying_ to find excuses to be in the studio?”

He shrugged and looked away, smile growing wider. “What can I say? I like recording.”

“Really? I thought you'd be sick of it by now.” She lowered her voice. “You're in here like every day.” She punctuated her words with a quick roll of her eyes. “It's almost like he's trying to burn you out.”

At least Phil wasn't the only one to think that. He glanced toward Jacob and made sure he was still distracted before replying in almost a whisper. “I'm losing my mind. I can't get these songs done at the quality I want them at without time, and that's the last thing he wants to give me.”

Betsy scoffed. “Who does he think he is?”

“Someone who majored in business,” Phil muttered.

“Yeah, well, he's not a musician. How's he gonna understand _?_ ”

Phil furrowed his eyebrows. “Do you play?”

She shrugged and smiled. “A little guitar, a little keyboard, a little bass...”

“And you're recording  _me_? Why ain't you playing yourself?”

“Because...this is where I belong.” She stared up at the tracks on the screen, ones that still felt foreign to Phil himself, and sighed. “All Nashville kids plays instruments. But not many of them can do what I can.” She chuckled. “They think they can. They think GarageBand and a twenty-dollar mic can make this happen. But they're wrong.”

“Wait, hold up...you're a Nashville kid?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”

He looked her up-and-down, taking in the flannel shirt, the skinny jeans, and the combat boots. “Just wondering if I was missing a cowboy hat somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes again, this time bursting into a broad grin. “God, you boys, you're all the same. Y'know, I wouldn't assume you were a dumb Southern kid just 'cuz you're from Georgia.”

He blinked. “How'd you know I'm from Georgia?”

In a moment that smart sass evaporated. She met his eyes quickly, her own an icy blue shade behind thick black glasses, and parted her lips in surprise. And then, as he watched, her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “I...voted for you,” she murmured, chewing on her bottom lip.

He took a moment to let that sink in. Never, not once, had she ever treated him like anything other than an ordinary human being. He wasn't Phil Phillips, eleventh winner of American Idol. He was just...Phil. Just some kid with a guitar trying to make an album. And yet she knew who he was, maybe even admired him.

Phil blinked again. And then, with one quick look toward Jacob, he leaned forward and planted his arms on the counter. “Listen, I know you're working hard right now, but...what are you doing later?”

She gave him the wide-eyed act again. “What?”

“You should come out with me. Maybe get a drink.”

Another long, questioning stare, followed by a laugh as Betsy tucked her hair behind her ear. “I'm... _way_ too old for you.”

He chuckled as well. “So you're not just hiding the hat, you're also hiding twenty years? Nice.”

“I'm twenty-eight,” she muttered, but she was smiling despite herself.

_Wouldn't be the first one_ , he thought wryly. The way she looked away with those pink cheeks told him she was either playing hard-to-get or hiding something more while being secretly flattered. He tilted his head to the side, trying to catch her eye again, and she turned fully back to the screen with a smirk. “You're reading me wrong, Betsy. I'm not asking you out.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she said dryly. She absently highlighted one track, then the other, then the next, alternating up and down the list without actually selecting any of them. “You're just a cute guy asking a pretty girl out for a drink in the middle of the night. Yeah. No ulterior motives there at all.”

“I'm serious,” he pressed, a laugh on his tone.

“Look, it doesn't matter anyway,” she said. She eyed him with a quirked brow. “I'm spoken for.”

“He's a lucky guy, but-”

“Girl.”

That took a moment to sink in too. When it did, his eyes widened to the point of hurting and he gaped at the air like a fish for a few soundless moments. “Oh. Oh, I had no idea you were a-”

“I'm not,” she snapped quietly, looking around. Phil looked as well and caught Jacob and the owner watching them. Betsy quietly cursed, raking her hair out of her eyes, and touched Phil's wrist to catch his attention again. “All right, look, this isn't a discussion for here, got it? Tell you what. You get 'Bones' and one other song finished, maybe 'All I'm Dying For' and we'll go get that drink. Okay?”

He didn't know what to say to that. He honestly didn't. He was still reeling from the fact that this girl, this chick he'd seen flirting with his studio musicians, who'd flirted with _him_ a time or two, was a lesbian? Or was she bisexual? Or did it matter?

Of course it mattered. But why?

He didn't want to answer that. It felt weird.

And so he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. Okay.” He smiled at her. “I'll, uh...hold you to that.”

“I'm talking single-quality, Phillips,” Betsy drawled. “Not just dinky little recordings. I want these out there, and I want my name on them.”

“Hey, man, whatever gets me that drink. I'm up for it.”

Betsy's smiled softened as she took him in. And then she looked back at the screen. “Go on, go home. Go find some other girl to go drinking with.”

Unlikely that he'd find some chick that he was suddenly so curious about for reasons he couldn't state, but she didn't need to know that. “Whatever. Have a good night, Betsy.”

“You too, Phil.”

As he exited the studio, bidding Jacob and Studio-Owner-Man a quick goodbye, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He tugged his phone out and studied Hannah's lovely face looking back at him.

He felt a momentary pang in his chest. And then he realized he couldn't figure out exactly what it was a product of.

He needed to drive home. This wasn't the time to be talking on the phone. Hannah'd hate herself forever if Phil ended up in an accident because she'd been distracting him. And so he hit the silencing button again as he crossed the parking lot to his car.

She could wait. She always did.


	4. Chapter 4

There was something generally comforting about his family's house, Colton thought as he pulled up in front of it. Maybe it was the architecture. Maybe it was the color. Maybe it was the giant tree growing out front, with a rope swing tied to it and everything. And on most days, just thinking about this house and all the memories he'd had inside of it would be enough to calm him down and relax him faster than a sedative.  
  
But this wasn't most days. And as far as he was concerned, that house could be growing tentacles out the window and dripping slime and it still wouldn't make him feel as uncomfortable as he did right now.  
  
He shut the car off and stared up at the looming building. His eyes flitted from window to window, taking in the living room, the blinds in front of his bedroom, and then finally Schyler's. Her blinds were wide open, and he could see a flash of red hair inside: the back of her head. She was no doubt at her computer or watching some teenaged sitcom thing on Disney Channel, maybe VH1.  
  
When he tilted his head to the side, he could see a little deeper into her room, and he realized that, actually, she wasn't doing anything. She was staring at the wall.  
  
She was waiting for him.  
  
Pain lanced him right through the chest, and he touched his forehead to the top of his steering wheel as he quietly groaned. _Okay, conscience, fine, I've been away too long, I get it,_ he thought. He tugged his baseball cap off and ran a hand through his hair, damp with sweat. He'd been away too long, and now he had to pay for it through this long, nigh on torturous visit home.  
  
He knew he should be focusing on doing something fun with his family, something to distract Schyler from everything that she was about to deal with headfirst. That was his duty as an older brother, as the one foundation of sanity that the Dixon family was going to have through the next several weeks – no, months.  
  
And when it came right down to it, he loved Schyler. He loved her senselessly. And half the reason why he had stayed away in the first place was _because_ of her.  
  
If she wanted him back now, he'd stay. And if she didn't, he wouldn't. And that's what it came down to.  
  
He came out of the car and grabbed his suitcase and marched to the front door, his eyes narrowed, his footsteps full of purpose. He reached right out and grabbed the doorknob and turned it and leaned in.  
  
And ran facefirst into the door.  
  
Colton stumbled back a step with a softly muttered “Dang it” before he stared at it in a strange sense of confusion. They'd locked the door. That...was weird. They didn't do that very often, did they?  
  
He hesitated. And then he fished for his keys in his pocket.  
  
No dice.  
  
He felt his shoulders slowly tense until they were a solid brick wall. When he finally glanced over his shoulder to his Jeep, he knew exactly what he was going to see.  
  
Keys. Keys hanging out in his front seat. With the door locked behind them.  
  
The door suddenly swung open behind him, and he turned, eyes wide, to come face-to-face with his equally wide-eyed sister. Schyler stared at him for a moment before she suddenly burst into a huge grin and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “Hey!” She laughed. “What're you just standing around out here for?”  
  
“I, uh...locked my keys in the car,” he said softly. He tried to drum up a chuckle of his own, but it didn't work as well as he was planning. He did, however, manage to drop his suitcase just inside the door and hug her close as well. It felt...weird. He realized in the back of his mind just how long it had been since he'd hugged his sister. That thought alone made him feel choked with guilt.  
  
“Well, good job,” Schyler teased. She leaned back and looked up at him again, her eyes softening. “It's good to see you.”  
  
The guilt grew thicker than cobwebs. “I missed you.”  
  
“Missed you too.” And then she grinned again. “C'mon, we've got your spare key sitting somewhere in the kitchen, right?”  
  
“Unless you moved it since I left.” Colton followed her through the living room, kicking the door shut behind him. “Where's Mom and Dad?”  
  
She shrugged. “Mom's napping. Dad's working.”  
  
“Working?” Colton blinked. “There's like...four days until Christmas. What's he doing working?”  
  
Schyler didn't reply for a moment. She didn't speak again until they were in the kitchen and she was rooting through a drawer. “He decided he'd work for the next few days instead of taking them off. Figured he'd save them for a couple of weeks from now instead of having a long Christmas break and stuff.”  
  
Colton's eyes flicked to the floor. He leaned into the kitchen counter, spreading his fingers until they were an equal amount apart, and nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” And then he glanced toward Schyler and studied her from the corner of his eye.  
  
For some reason, he expected her to look gaunt, maybe a shell of her former self. He expected her to look pale and starched out at the edges. But she didn't. She looked exactly like she had when he'd left in the first place. She looked like she was normal, not like she had some alien stuck in her breast that was slowly sucking the life out of her.  
  
He realized that somewhere along the trip from the living room to the kitchen he'd stopped breathing. He sucked in a deep breath and, when Schyler looked up at him in surprise, said the words that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue ever since he'd started his drive home. “How are you?”  
  
She immediately smiled and held her fist out to him. “Found your key!”  
  
He stared at her. And then he took the key, curling it into his palm and trapping it there. “Thanks. I'll be right back.”  
  
The journey to the car felt longer than the drive from South Carolina to here. Every step had him asking himself when he'd made the first mistake. Was it when he'd asked how she was? When he'd left the house on his trip in the first place, on the edge of her diagnosis?  
  
When he'd sang for those judges during her audition?  
  
Everything in her life that caused her pain seemed to resonate from that one moment. He'd forgotten that he was her brother. He'd tried to be humble and sweet and to make it clear that he was there to support her, not to steal her thunder, but when it came right down to it, he was secretly happy that the judges had even remembered who he was in the first place.  
  
Even when he clung to Schyler when she was eliminated, down under all the sadness, all the guilt...he was ecstatic.  
  
This surgery could fail. It could fail, and she could be dead by next Christmas. And he would be responsible for taking away the most influential event in her life.  
  
He retrieved his keys. He made his way inside. When he replaced the spare key, he heard noise from upstairs, and when a glance around told him that Schyler was nowhere to be found he decided to head for the stairs instead, suitcase in hand. He paused for a moment at the foot of the stairs, his hand tightening around the railing, until he heard the soft chatter of female voices. They spurred him skyward.  
  
He poked his head into his parents' bedroom and saw Schyler sitting on the edge of the bed, talking quietly with his mom.  
  
God, his mom.  
  
The second he focused on his mom, really let her face – her entire _person_ \- sink into his brain, he felt his whole body grow weak. He wanted to kneel by the bed, to take her hand and press his cheek into it, to breathe in the familiar smell of her perfume and be cradled like a five-year-old again.  
  
But he wasn't a child. He was twenty-three years old. And that meant that instead he held his place in the doorframe and soaked up the pleasure of his mother's smile secretly.  
  
“Hey, son,” she said softly as she pushed herself into a sitting position. It was stunning, really, to see the fact that the gauntness and weakness he was looking for in Schyler was instead reflected here in his mother. But she wasn't hindered by it. She was getting to her feet as quickly as she could. “It's so good to see you.”  
  
“It's good to see you too,” he murmured. When she pulled him into her arms he felt a sudden keen rush of nostalgia. God, wouldn't it be perfect if she was still a few feet taller than him, if he could just rest his head on her stomach and feel safely contained like he did when he was a child? But he was the giant now. He rested his chin on top of his mother's head and contained her instead. He felt the weight of responsibility settle squarely on his shoulders, until he thought he might cave under the pressure. But he didn't have that option anymore, really, did he?  
  
“How was the drive?” his mom asked. Colton could feel her growing a little more bubbly with each passing moment that she was awake. For the first time in his life, though, he wondered how much of it was faked for the benefit of her children. “Are you hungry?”  
  
Of course she'd jump right to that. She was a Southern woman. If Colton didn't have a full stomach at all times, she'd failed as a mother. He smiled at her and shrugged. “I can eat.”  
  
“Good! I've still got some leftover roast from yesterday, or I can warm you up some casserole...”  
  
“ _Casserole?_ ” Colton stared at her as she glided toward the stairs – she was far too graceful to simply walk anywhere – and blinked. “Since when do you make casseroles?”  
  
“Oh, _I_ didn't make them.” She waved over her shoulder with a smile. “They're from the neighbors, and the church family...really sweet people, you know.”  
  
A bitter taste struck in Colton's mouth. The only time he could remember the church doing something like that was just after a funeral. What in the world were they thinking? “Some, uh, roast sounds fine.”  
  
As he followed her down the stairs, he listened to her chatter like a monkey, though now that he was reeling he found that he could barely take any of it in. It was just noise. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Schyler leaning into the banister with a small, secret smile on her face, and he felt more bitterness try to choke him.  
  
The world, he realized, was slowly spiraling downhill, and there was a very fine line between it becoming a tragedy or a farce.  
  
The second they were in the kitchen with Schyler still ensconced upstairs,Colton sat at the small breakfast table and rubbed his face. “How's she doing?” he asked.  
  
His mother paused at the refrigerator door. “...she's okay, I think.” She sighed. “Quieter. She doesn't like to talk about it right now.”  
  
“I noticed.”  
  
“She's not avoiding just talking about the cancer, though.” She dropped her voice to a murmur on the last two words. “It's... _herself._ She wants to talk about anything but herself.”  
  
Colton frowned. “Why?”  
  
“I don't know.” As she began spooning tender leftover roast into a bowl, her movements grew slow and sluggish. “Soon I'm afraid she'll just stop talking altogether.”  
  
He tossed his hat on the table and sighed. “I'll see what I can do.”  
  
“If she doesn't want to talk-”  
  
“I'm her brother,” he snapped. “If anyone can get her to talk, it'll be me.”  
  
~~~  
  
Elise sank into her couch with a heavy sigh. She wasted no time in removing her shoes and stretching her legs out across the cushions.  
  
Jesus. You knew you needed another job when the best part of your day was sitting down at home when you got off work.  
  
She glanced at the clock. Two o' clock in the morning. Fantastic. Might as well go ahead and pour a glass of wine to chill herself out, then.  
  
If only she had a robot to get it for her.  
  
“All right, Testone,” she muttered. “Up and at 'em.” She heaved herself to her feet with a groan and stumbled into the kitchen.  
  
She was in it for the long haul tonight, and she knew it. She'd bet anything that sleep would be held at bay until at least five o' clock, if not later. It was the sick, twisted cycle she knew would carry on indefinitely, if only because it had yet to change since the Idol tour ended.  
  
Elise had insomnia, yes, but it was a  _limited_ insomnia. It only existed as long as she slept alone.  
  
Ever since college, she hated to sleep alone. It was peculiar. It wasn't a fear, per se, like of the dark or bogeymen. It was a simple discomfort that loomed and kept her on edge until her body gave out from sheer exhaustion. It was constant and unyielding, and it meant she woke up most mornings like death itself. Never a pretty picture.  
  
She poured herself that glass of wine, barely even looking at the bottle, and hobbled back to the couch. When she glanced at the blank TV screen she debated with herself for a moment before deciding to leave it off. She felt like she deserved the insomnia, so there was no need to try to distract herself from it. She considered working on a song or two, but she couldn't sing quietly to save her life and that keyboard of hers could wake up Rip van Winkle.  
  
Nope. Her wine would have to be her only companion tonight.  
  
She settled in for a long few hours of personal exploration and began to rub her calves, kneading the tight muscles therein. She'd been at it for only a few minutes before her phone vibrated.  
  
She stared at it. At this time of night it was more likely for it to be possessed by a poltergeist than for someone to actually be texting her. She hesitated for a few long seconds before she reached for it.  
  
She hesitated even longer when she saw who it was from.  
  
Phil.  
  
For a moment before she read the text she rested her phone on her leg and stared blankly at the wall. What did he want now? It'd been ages since she'd heard from him, and yet...she was happy to hear from him, as much as she shouldn't be.  
  
 _You're a fool,_ she thought. And then she opened the text.  
  
 _'You up?'_ it asked.  
  
Her fingers spelled out a reply. _'Yeah.'_  
  
She thought he'd make her wait, as he was apt to do, but the reply came less than a minute later. _'Thought so. Knew you wouldn't let me down lol.'_  
  
A hand closed around her heart. She drank down a huge gulp of wine.  _'Yeah haha. What else is new.'_ She paused.  _'What's up anyway?'_  
  
 _'Just bored at home. Wanted to talk to someone. Knew you'd be up.'_  
  
 _'Insomnia reigns supreme in winter.'_  
  
 _'What you need is someone to keep you warm right? Haha.'_  
  
The hand squeezed tighter and added one around her lungs as well. She collapsed flat on the couch and sighed. She didn't have the energy for this. Analyzing Phil's texts messages was like defusing a time bomb, and she really didn't feel like having one blow up in her face tonight. For the longest time she didn't reply, and when she did she felt like she was snipping a wire.  _'Well you know it's kinda hard to find a good man in SC.'_  
  
 _'I don't know, I heard Colton just came to visit you.'_  
  
Another time bomb. Was he teasing her? Earnest about hooking her up with someone? Or was he jealous?  
  
Jealous? Why would he be jealous? He had Hannah.  
  
Then again, since when had that stopped him?  
  
 _'I'm too old for him haha'_ was what she ended up texting back. It had the benefit of being both unflirtatious and completely true.  
  
 _'Whatever lol. You're 29 not 50.'_  
  
 _'Close enough.'_  
  
 _'You act more like you're 20 anyway so I guess that makes Colton the older one.'_  
  
She didn't like how he was pushing this. But it wasn't the first time. She decided not to respond at all.  
  
When he texted her again, it was late enough that she'd already finished her wine and was considering a second glass. The buzz of her phone guaranteed that, yes, she'd be having one more, maybe even two. _'Well, if good guys are that hard to find in SC I'll make sure my tour goes through Charleston.'_  
  
She bit her bottom lip and tried to pretend her heart didn't just start beating a little faster. _'So you can go after all the lonely SC women lol?'_  
  
The reply didn't help much. _'Just one.'_  
  
Maybe some brandy would be better instead.  
  
Elise dragged her hand through her hair and sighed, feeling her cheeks heat. And then she felt her treacherous self give in. _'What's her name? I need to warn her.'_  
  
 _'We'll just say you know her really well.'_  
  
She felt something stir in the base of her stomach, but she couldn't trust it. She refused to. If she even began to trust it, she'd end up right back where she was before. And so she sent another text that she hope would sever all contact. _'I think you need to put up the beer and call your girlfriend.'_  
  
There was no reply. She sat there and stared at her phone and sipped her second glass of wine down to the dregs and waited for an apology, a word of regret, anything. But what she got was several texts in a row, one continuing the next in an essay of sorts.  _'Hannah might be able to see me when I go on tour, but only at a couple of shows. She's signed up to work with some charity, sort of like Habitat for Humanity or something, and she's gonna be gone all fall working with them, but most of the time she's gonna be stationed in Charleston.'_ Elise felt her heart sinking in her chest.  _'I'm sorry if it sounded like I was being weird or whatever. I totally forgot you didn't know. I was talking about seeing her.'_  
  
Hannah. He was talking about Hannah. Of COURSE he was talking about Hannah. Why the hell would he be talking about anybody else?  
  
Apparently one of them had learned from his mistakes, and the other was desperate to keep perpetrating them for as long as she possibly could.  
  
Elise sat up and threw together a quick, mindless text, barely even sure of what she was saying. _'You know I think Colton said something about that actually haha. I completely forgot. Well, that'll be good for you. I'm glad.'_ She sent it off before she could ramble anymore.  
  
She was an idiot. A total idiot. And she sat up for three more hours, both hoping Phil would reply with a sign that he'd forgotten it already and that he would leave her be to sulk in her shame.  
  
He did the latter.


	5. Chapter 5

“What're you doing for Christmas?”  
  
Phil scratched his itchy ear as he sank a little deeper into his beanbag chair. His apartment was richly furnished in many ways, thanks to Jacob's insistence that he hire an interior designer in time for his first few interviews after his first album, but there were just enough touches that made Phil feel like he wasn't a total Hollywood kid yet. The grungy beanbag chair from home was one of them. “I'unno,” he murmured, glancing up at the ceiling. “Guess I'll hang around town, try to get some writing done.”  
  
Hannah chuckled on the other end of the line. “You work too hard, sweetheart.”  
  
“Nah. I don't work nearly hard enough.” He tucked his arm behind his head and let his eyes wander to his notebook, sitting on the coffee table. There were some unfinished lyrics in there for a song he was still toying around with. His fingers itched to grab a pencil and work on them.  
  
“I'm serious,” Hannah pressed. “I wish you were coming home. Your family misses the crap out of you.”  
  
“Yeah, well...” He sighed. “I'll be back in town next month for a weekend.”  
  
“Second week of January, right?”  
  
God, he wanted to work on that song.  
  
“I've got it written down on my calendar and everything.”  
  
Maybe if he just went ahead and reached out and grabbed it...  
  
“Phil? You there?”  
  
He jolted back to the present. “Yeah, babe?”  
  
She was quiet for a moment. “Are you okay? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”  
  
“Naw, not at all,” Phil rushed to say. He sat up and forced himself to look away from his notebook lest he feel any traces of guilt. “I'm just...I haven't slept that well the past week or so.”  
  
“What? Why not?”  
  
“Just thinking about this damn album.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with another sigh. “Gotta get it done.”  
  
Hannah hummed in sympathy. “I know it's important to you, sweetie, and I know that's why you're staying down there this Christmas instead of coming home, but that doesn't make it any easier being over here while you're over there.”  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. “Yeah.”  
  
There was a momentary lull. “...did you get my package yet?”  
  
He hadn't even checked the mail in a couple of days. Geez. “Uh...no. No, not yet.” He wracked his brain to try to figure out why he'd be getting a package from her in the first place. She was a sweet girl, but she didn't have a hell of a lot of money to her name, and that meant she didn't spoil him as much these days as she had when she was in high school.  
  
“Oh, well, that's okay.” She chuckled. “There's still, what, two days before Christmas Eve?”  
  
Christmas.  
  
Shit.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Yeah there is.” He leaned over so far that he almost touched his forehead to his kneecap. Jesus Christ, he'd forgotten Christmas gifts. How the hell was he gonna get out of this one? “But, uh, you know the mail. Sometimes it just sucks massively.”  
  
“Don't I know it. I swear to God, though, if that package gets lost in the mail...”  
  
He laughed appreciatively and tried not to wonder just how panicky and hysterical he sounded.  
  
“Anyway, I know you're busy,” she said. “So I'll let you go work on whatever.”  
  
“Yeah.” Phil shoved the guilt and panic to the back of his mind as he reached instinctively for his lyric notebook. “Thanks for calling, babe. Sorry I've been so out of touch lately.”  
  
“I forgive you as long as you don't do it again,” she teased. “Bye, sweetheart. I love you very much.”  
  
“Love you too,” he said quickly just before he ended the call and tossed his cell phone onto the couch. Christmas. He hated Christmas. He could get away with forgetting when his friends' birthdays were, but Christmas? Not buying people a present for that meant an automatic lynching these days.  
  
No. No, he didn't wanna think about this right now. It'd just get him stressed and frantic and then he'd be a useless blob over the next few days instead of a productive machine.  
  
Clearly the studios were going to be closed over Christmas, and there'd be no recording taking place until after New Years Eve, but his family didn't have to know that. Neither did Hannah. They didn't need to grasp the fact that he couldn't stand coming home right now. There'd be too many awkward moments, too many unanswered questions. It'd be all questions about how the album was progressing all the time, and he wouldn't have a moment's peace as the rest of the town hounded him about the same.  
  
He loved Leesburg. He really did. But after being away from it for so long, Phil found himself nervous about readjusting to the small town culture for even a short time, like a weekend. He was in a weird place now: he wasn't purely a small-town boy anymore, but he wasn't a big-city kid either. He was stuck somewhere in the middle, missing an identity and a place to call his own. As he glanced around the apartment, gorgeous loft as it was with a lovely view of the skyscrapers and the skyline outside, he realized he wasn't even comfortable calling it home yet, and he'd been here for over a year.  
  
He let his thoughts gloss over as he studied the sharp angles of the buildings outside. They were so different from the older, almost dilapidated buildings around his family home back in Georgia. Fields didn't exist here. There, they were the rule. Here was where cool hipsters grew up. There, everyone had a slow, lazy way of talking and lived in jeans ninety-five percent of the time.  
  
And here was Phil, dressed in baggy jeans and a v-neck t-shirt, straddling the line and trying to find himself.  
  
He wondered if there was a song in that.  
  
He wondered about it for a good minute or two before he tossed the notebook onto the coffee table with an exasperated sigh. He didn't have the heart to be patient. When it came to his songs he wanted results as quickly as possible, but only if he could get it done right. That was the difference between him and Jacob, wasn't it? Jacob thought that 'okay' was good enough. Phil wasn't satisfied with anything less than exceptional. But they both craved speed and efficiency and were unhappy when they didn't get it.  
  
Phil wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but he was smart enough to realize that half the reason he couldn't work right now was because he still couldn't get his head back in the game. He blamed Hannah for that, really, for calling five times a day for a week until Phil had finally gotten off his ass and answered the phone. She was sweet enough; she hadn't guilted him for not picking up and she hadn't acted all huffy or anything, but that in and of itself was almost guilting, really. She was making it clear that she would settle for that, that it was good enough for her.  
  
A couple of years ago if he was in this mood he would have called Hannah straight away to be his sounding board. A year ago, it might've been Heejun instead. Now neither of those sounded right.  
  
He thought about his brother-in-law. He thought about Colton. He even thought about going ahead and calling Heejun anyway. But it wasn't until he thought of Elise instead that his mind slowly began to clear.  
  
It was weird to admit, but he was pretty sure he missed her. Weird, because he wasn't the kind of person who missed people ferociously. He was an out-of-sight-out-of-mind kind of guy, the type who missed someone really bad for about five minutes after they left and then just sort of forgot about them and got right back to his music. But Elise was different.  
  
He didn't like that she was different.  
  
He rolled his cell phone around in his hands and studied it. He slid his finger across the screen and pulled up the Messages tab even though he knew what he would see. He skimmed through last night's text messages with her, slowly narrowing his eyes with each line.  
  
The fact that she was different was something that haunted him every time she came to mind, and that happened with a startling frequency these days. Sure, he had a reason for it today, after the disaster less than twenty-four hours ago, but before that there wasn't one. They hadn't been in contact for weeks, maybe months, and when they had it was him who had screwed it up, as per usual.  
  
She'd been a good drinking buddy back on the show. And that in and of itself had gotten them into far more trouble than it was worth.  
  
He toyed with the idea of texting her again, of wishing her an early Merry Christmas, but just as he held his thumb over the screen the phone buzzed in his hands, and he nearly dropped it to the ground. It was a message from Betsy. _'Please tell me you're not doing anything important right now. If I don't get some work done I'm gonna lose my mind.'_  
  
He smiled despite himself and came immediately to his feet. _'Boring as shit around the apartment. What do you wanna do?'_  
  
 _'Work. Studio?'_  
  
 _'Yeah. Now?'_  
  
 _'Please!'_  
  
 _'On my way.'_  
  
He shoved his cell phone into his pocket and grabbed his acoustic guitar, slinging it over his shoulder. They might work on vocals. They might work on chords. There was no telling what things stimulated Betsy's moods and leanings.  
  
“Dude,” she drawled when he strolled in, “way to keep me waiting. What a jerk.”  
  
He grinned at her. “Good to see you too, Betsy.” He looked around and whistled low. “They let you use this place when nobody's here?”  
  
She shrugged. “I have a key. They've got a security guy here 24/7 to keep an eye on the equipment. That's all they really need.” And then she swept her hands toward the immense glass-covered recording room in front of her mixer. “Go. Go! I need to work!”  
  
“What's your hurry?” he asked with a laugh, but proceeded to slide his guitar bag's strap off his shoulder anyway. “You gonna die if you don't get this done?”  
  
“What if I said yes?” she shot back, sweeping her hair around her neck and gathering it over one shoulder. “Then what would you do?”  
  
“I'd get the hell in that booth and make some magic happen, that's what.” He brought out his guitar and held it close to him, plucking the strings to check their tuning. “This studio'd be dead without you. You're the only thing that brings it any kind of life or vibrance or whatever.”  
  
A little peek over the guitar told him that she was smiling and her cheeks flushing. “D'aww, Phil, you're sweet. You're gonna give me cavities.”  
  
He tried to pretend that didn't please him so much.  
  
“You don't have to worry about the guitar, though. I just wanna hear you sing today.”  
  
He glanced up at her. “You sure?”  
  
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Thought we might do a little vocal work on something. Maybe something we haven't done much on yet.”  
  
“'Bones'?”  
  
“Maybe. You get in there and I'll pull up some tracks.”  
  
Recording with a room full of people was always an adventure. You had the band all together, playing at once. You fed off the energy of the people watching you by the mixer, where you could see them nodding their heads and smiling. It was like being at a miniature concert.  
  
Recording with only two people involved was a much different experience.  
  
Phil situated the thick headphones on and met Betsy's eyes through the glass, and she smiled at him as she pressed a button on the console and leaned in. “You hear me all right?”  
  
He nodded and angled himself toward the microphone. “Maybe a click or two louder.”  
  
She adjusted. “How about now?”  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
“Sweet.” She looked at the computer screen and began considering things. “All right. We have 'Bones.' We have 'All I'm Dying For.' Both are ready for vocals. Which one do you want?”  
  
He exhaled slowly, considering them both in his head. “'Bones.' That one's closest to being ready, right?”  
  
He saw her smile. “Heck, if we get the vocals laid in today, maybe I can do the final tuning and mixing tomorrow and have it ready by Christmas.”  
  
Phil furrowed his eyebrows. “What're you working so close to Christmas for anyway?”  
  
Betsy looked down at the mixer. And then she peeked at him through long eyelashes. “I could ask you the same question.” She tilted her head to the side. “Shouldn't you be back home?”  
  
He didn't have an answer for that. His eyes flitted around the room nervously for a moment before he cleared his throat. “All right. So 'Bones.' The sooner we get it done, the sooner I get that drink with you.”  
  
Her smile grew. “Ah, you still remember?”  
  
“You're a cool gal. I wanna hear your life story. Is that so weird?”  
  
“Maybe.” And then she ducked her head as if she herself was feeling bashful and Phil felt the earlier awkwardness in the air dissipate. “All right, your levels are good. You just wanna start at the top and go through it and fix whatever's funky after that?”  
  
He shrugged. “Yeah. Let's do it.”  
  
As he sang, he shoved his hands into his pockets, a constant reminder not to thrash around like a crazy man like he used to on Idol for the longest time. Things were easier when he had a microphone in his hands, of course, but these fancy studio mics didn't exactly afford him that chance. And even though it was just him and Betsy, he didn't exactly want to embarrass himself in front of her.  
  
She had an energy about her that reminded him of someone, he realized, but he was having trouble putting two-and-two together and figuring out exactly who. But there was a life there. A vibrance, as he'd said. It was addicting. It was something he could feed on and pour into the song he was singing, like a reverse-vampire.  
  
It was funny. Being around her made him want to create. It made him crazy. He couldn't explain why, necessarily, but when he looked through the glass and saw the way her eyes were closed, the way she was planning out the things she'd do to make this song sound incredible, he just wanted to sit down and pull out his notebook and make everything make sense.  
  
It'd been too long since he'd really communed with a fellow artist, he realized, like on Idol. He missed the days where anywhere he sat, he had other songwriters and musicians at his beck and call, all with different talents, all with different genres. He could pull Skylar in if he wanted advice on adding maybe a steel guitar line to a song. He could grab Jess if he wanted to know what could drag some more soul into it all. And Colton would press his fingers into the piano keys and coax out a steady harmony that he'd never pictured matching his guitar lines so perfectly.  
  
Damn, he missed those guys.  
  
When he came to the end of the song, he watched Betsy open her eyes and nod. “Great job,” she said in his headphones. “Seriously, that was...like...” She sighed and shook her head, grinning like a little girl. “You gotta come hear it. It's perfect.”  
  
He made his way into the studio and leaned his hands on the back of Betsy's chair, one on either side of her shoulders. He leaned in to stare at the screen, at the little dancing soundwaves that he himself had created, and let her play the song.  
  
It wasn't bad. It really wasn't. As he listened to the vocals he found little things here and there that he wanted to nitpick about, but when he looked down at Betsy he saw that she was in another world. She was transcending reality.  
  
His vocals were making her do that.  
  
“You like?” he asked softly, his voice rough from the higher notes he'd belted out.  
  
She met his eyes and nodded slowly. “That's why I voted for you.”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“You have anything you want to change?”  
  
He shrugged, looking back at the screen. “I mean, there's things here and there. Like, the lead-in to the first chorus...” He pointed vaguely, and Betsy double-clicked on the section and let it play. “Hear that? I'm like... _just_ under the note I wanna be on and-”  
  
“I like that, though.”  
  
His eyes widened a little. “You do?”  
  
“Yeah! Dude, come on!” She gestured emphatically at the screen. “Phil, that's real. That's _you._ I got into this business to _stop_ all the stupid auto-tuning, not emphasize it more.” Her cheeks flushed as a passionate sparkle filled her eyes. “I mean, were you always pitch-perfect on Idol? No. But that was _good._ It added character to the songs you did. It made them rougher, less refined, all the more emotional and true and heartbreaking.” She shook her head in a degree of wonder. “You didn't win Idol because you were perfect, Phil. You won because you were _real._ And I don't think you need to let anybody tell you you need to be auto-tune perfect. Because fuck that.”  
  
He stared at her. “...wow. Guess I got told.”  
  
She slowly smiled. “Besides. Maybe I wanna get that drink just as much as you do.”  
  
His heart start to beat a little faster. “Well then. The studio don't have no appointments, and you and me got all night. What d'you say we work on 'All I'm Dying For' and see if we can't get that done for the New Year?”  
  
She slapped him playfully on the arm. “You're on.”


	6. Chapter 6

Colton thought that Christmas would be the hardest. He was wrong. New Years was somehow worse.  
  
Schyler had seen fit to remind him about the New Years party at church so many times that he thought his head was going to pop off. It'd be a whole lot of fun, she said, and he hadn't seen half the kids their age since he'd gone off on his little adventure to see his Idol buddies, so he might as well come and catch up.  
  
That was how he ended up in the fellowship hall with everybody else, the lights low, the music playing, and everybody dancing around like buffoons. Schyler was right in the middle of them, and if you watched her you couldn't tell that she was a girl who was going to have a major surgery that would alter the course of her life in about a week.  
  
Colton fingered the hem of his vest with a certain degree of discomfort as he looked out the window and took a sip of his soda. He didn't want to be here. He didn't. But the problem was he didn't know where he wanted to be either. He just wanted to be... _away._ Maybe doing music. Maybe recording an album. Maybe just laying on his back in the quarter-inch of snow outside and staring at the stars. But whatever he wanted to do, mystery as it was, he knew it didn't involve people. It was like he was slowly becoming a hermit.  
  
He became aware of the fact that he was being watched by the weird tingly feeling on the back of his neck, and he glanced over his shoulder. There was a pretty blonde girl dancing on the outskirts of the floor watching him with lovely, sparkling eyes, and she offered him a smile. Maybe a few months ago this would have made his heart kickstart, encouraged him to go get her name and steal a dance with her, but tonight it only made the discomfort in his chest grow.  
  
What was the matter with him?  
  
He immediately looked back at Schyler, who looked like she was having the time of her life. She wanted him to be here. She wanted him to be happy. And here he was, skulking around the periphery of it all, probably one step away from ruining her night when she noticed. Some big brother he was. He gulped down the rest of his soda in one go, almost like he was trying to draw some dutch courage from it, before making his way toward the dance floor.  
  
He was just a few inches away when the song ended and the young adult minister paused the sound system. He was a new leader, one that had come along when Colton was away on Idol, and Colton realized he didn't even know the man's name yet. “Excuse me! Hello?”  
  
The chatter among the young adults died down to a low lull.  
  
“Look, I just wanted to say thanks for all ya'll coming out tonight. I'm having a blast over here, and it's such a blessing to be with ya'll. Especially this special young lady right here, Schyler Dixon.”  
  
Colton's eyes flicked protectively to his sister. She was smiling at the minister, but the way that she wrapped her arms tightly around herself told Colton that she was feeling a little uncomfortable. He had a feeling he knew why.  
  
“I know most of you know this, but to ya'll that're new, our Schyler here's been going through a rough patch in her life. She was diagnosed with breast cancer just a little less than a month ago, around Thanksgiving, and she's about to have her first – and hopefully only – surgery here in about a week or so to get it all fixed up.”  
  
There was soft murmuring around the room, an entire wave of sympathy. Schyler was dipping her head, though Colton couldn't tell whether it was in embarrassment or acceptance.  
  
“I hope nobody minds if I take a minute to stop the music and say a quick prayer over her, 'cuz the next time we see you, Schyler, we know God's gonna have done some miracles in your life. We know He's gonna take that cancer and hide it and make it never come back, ain't that right?”  
  
The room bubbled with soft “Amens” and “Praise Gods.”  
  
“And I wanna ask somebody to lead this prayer, 'cuz I know it's gotta be closer to his heart than to any of ours, and that somebody's her older brother, Colton.”  
  
All eyes in the room swept toward him, and Colton felt his heart sink into his stomach. A sudden fine sweat broke out across his forehead.  
  
“Come on up here, Colton,” the minister encouraged, looking a little unsure and confused at the way that he didn't respond immediately.  
  
Colton nodded more on instinct than actual agreement and began to wade his way through the people. He slowed as he came near Schyler, but she kept staring at the floor, as if she was just as embarrassed by the sudden turn of events as he was. He reached out and squeezed her arm. Her only response was touching his hand for a moment before she pressed her hand into his back and encouraged him to make his way up to the minister and the microphone.  
  
He did as she silently commanded, relieved to make her happy even in this small way. He took the mic from the minister with a nod and a small, forced smile before clearing his throat and looking out over the room. “...please bow your heads.”  
  
They did. He saw every person in the room close their eyes. He saw this because he didn't do the same.  
  
“Father God...” His hand closed around the mic's body until he thought he might be choking it. “...please keep Your eyes on Schyler through this time.” He felt a little choked himself. But it wasn't from tears, and he felt slightly disloyal due to that. “Hold her, Father. Hold her and don't let her go.”  
  
There were little quiet affirmations around the room, but even as they lifted him up and spurred him on in the past he felt stifled by them tonight, like if he didn't give more, didn't jack up the level of his prayer to divine levels, he'd be failing somehow.  
  
“I'm asking You to heal her. I'm asking You to take away this cancer and make her healthier than she's ever been before.”  
  
More affirmations. He still couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't even blink. His eyes were beginning to burn from the strain.  
  
“Just...make her okay, Father. Make her recovery fast. And comfort her through it.”  
  
He couldn't say anything else. He couldn't even _think_ of anything else. He cleared his throat to buy time, but nothing came up.  
  
Finally, he just settled. “...amen.”  
  
“Amen,” the room echoed back to him.  
  
The minister squeezed his shoulder firmly. “Thank you, Colton.” And then he pulled him in for a hug, probably the most awkward hug Colton had ever experienced in his life. “God's gonna take care of her, man.”  
  
Colton patted the minister on the back. “Yeah.” And he waited until he was let go and could make his way back through the crowd again.  
  
The minister got the music started again, and everyone went back to dancing, though when Colton glanced over his shoulder he saw a group of girls surrounding Schyler and holding her. And, better yet, she was leaning into them, tears in her eyes, letting them comfort her where she hadn't let Colton do the same.  
  
They could apparently give her what she needed. Not him.  
  
Colton burst through the fellowship hall doors and let the brilliant cold of the Winter outside chill him to the bone. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back and felt the tickle of tiny, wet snowflakes falling on his face before they melted immediately into nothingness.  
  
He wanted to be alone. No, he didn't. He wanted to be with someone. But not anyone inside.  
  
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and immediately pulled up his phone book. He felt an instinctive urge to call a specific person, and he didn't hesitate.  
  
“...hello?” that person growled into the receiver.  
  
“Hey, Phil.”  
  
“Colton! What's up, man?”  
  
“Not much. What's up with you?”  
  
“Jesus, I'm exhausted.” Phil laughed. “I've been spending like every night in the studio for the past _week_ or something, I'm telling you. I'm gettin' it done!”  
  
“The studio?” Colton blinked. “That's awesome, seriously, but what're you doing in the studio over the holidays?”  
  
Phil huffed out a little sigh, and Colton recognized it as a sign of his exhaustion. He'd heard it frequently after long rehearsals back in the day. “Just needed a little more time away from home. You know what I mean?”  
  
“Yeah, tell me about it.”  
  
“...how's Schyler, by the way? Your sister, I mean, not Laine.”  
  
That question. He'd found himself hoping that Phil hadn't yet heard about Schyler. Colton eased himself down and sat on an icy curb with a sigh of his own. “She's good. She's got her surgery in about a week.”  
  
“Heejun said something about that. Said he saw it on Twitter. That's the mastectomy, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Rough, man.”  
  
“Yeah. But she's hanging in there. She's stronger than I thought possible.”  
  
“Thank God for that.”  
  
Colton let his eyes fall shut. “Yeah.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence before Phil spoke again. “So guess who's got a single about to hit the radio.”  
  
“No way.” The first real smile of the night pulled at Colton's lips. “You're serious?”  
  
“Hell yeah!” Phil laughed. “'Bones!' Dude, you've gotta check your email. I'm gonna send you the rough cut of it, all right? You've gotta hear it. Betsy – that's my studio engineer – she made magic happen, I'm telling you. She's half the reason it's so freaking cool.”  
  
“It sounds awesome. I can't wait.” His butt was getting wet from the melting ice, he realized, but he also decided he didn't care that much. “Man. Look at you. Big and famous.”  
  
“I wouldn't say _famous_...”  
  
“I would.” Colton chuckled. “That single's gonna rock the nation all over again.”  
  
“I hope so. Man, I hope so,” Phil said. Colton heard a little voice in the background, and Phil chuckled again. “All right, I hate to cut this short, but I've gotta get back to recording. I wanna get this song done by the middle of January.”  
  
“All right, no problem.”  
  
“It was great to hear from you, though. We've gotta catch up soon, all right? Seriously.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
“You have a good New Years Eve, okay, Colt?”  
  
“You too, Phil.”  
  
It took a little adjusting before Colton could get his phone in the airtight pocket of his skinny jeans, but once he managed it he sighed and tilted his head back. The stars were hidden behind clouds tonight. What a letdown.  
  
The fellowship hall doors opened, but he didn't glance over until he heard a voice. “Colton?”  
  
He glanced. “Hey, Schylar.”  
  
His sister gave him a small smile as she drifted outside and let the doors shut behind her. “...you about ready to head home?”  
  
He blinked. He even looked down at his watch. “You sure? It's not even close to midnight.”  
  
“I know, I know, I'm just...” Schyler shrugged. “I'm tired. I didn't expect it to hit me this soon. Plus I've got some blood work in the morning and-”  
  
“You've got a point there.” Colton heaved himself to his feet and stretched with a sigh. “You tell everybody bye already?”  
  
“Yeah. You wanna go do that?”  
  
He shrugged. “They won't miss me.”  
  
They made their way to Colton's jeep across the salted parking lot, trying to avoid the major piles of sludge here and there. It was only when they were sealed up inside the car and he was waiting for the heat to warm up that he spoke again. “...Schye?”  
  
She looked over at him. “Yeah?”  
  
He hesitated. “We're...we're okay, right?”  
  
She blinked. “Yeah. Why?”  
  
“I just...it just feels like...” He tried to find the words. He wished he could reach through his ears and claw through his brain until he found the exact thought, until he could drag it out and set it in front of Schyler and let her read it for herself. But when he met her eyes he saw a weird gleam in them. It was reluctance, he realized. She really didn't want to discuss this. She wanted to let it go and come back to it later, or maybe never. And so he let all the air seep out of him like a blowfish before shaking his head. “Never mind.” And then he forced a smile at her, and she returned it.  
  
He was almost thankful when Schyler cranked up the radio as they drove back home, so that way he didn't have to speak again.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the middle of January and Elise still hadn't taken down her Christmas decorations. She didn't know if she could bring herself to do it. She went through this slow and colorful process every year mostly because she was such a generally happy person with a childish spirit around her, a spirit that clung to the air surrounding Christmas with intense fervor and didn't want to let it go.  
  
This year, however, it was stronger, and for several reasons. She was alone. She was far away from her family. Her friends were all busy with their own families. And her boss couldn't leave well enough alone.  
  
“It's ridiculous,” she whined into her phone as she lay on her couch and swung a string of silver garland through the air. “I'm starting to think I should just quit and try to get a position somewhere else.”  
  
Erika hummed in sympathy. “I hear you. But that could take ages, sweetie. The job market is so freaking oversaturated these days.”  
  
“I know, I know...” Elise heaved a sigh. “But c'mon, I'm Elise Testone. I have great hair. I can paint my fingernails with my toes. Shouldn't that get me something?”  
  
Erika was quiet. “...you can paint your nails with your toes?”  
  
“Okay, no, but my point is still valid.” She sat up and sandwiched her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear as she began to tie her hair back with the garland. “And, man, when it comes down to it, I make bank at that bar. I got regulars. They know who I am. Probably the only place I'd make better money is if I was working in a damn strip club.”  
  
Erika chuckled. “You'd rock the pole, that's for sure.”  
  
“Thanks, sis.” She tightened the ponytail, and then she discovered she had nothing else to play with. The ponytail came back down. “I feel like such a damn failure as an adult.”  
  
“You're not,” Erika pressed. “You're awesome. You're doing music. You're doing what you love, and that's what you're _supposed_ to be doing.”  
  
“So am I supposed to be getting sexually harassed by my boss at the same time? Do I just put up with that like it's no big deal?”  
  
“Elise...” Erika sighed. “I mean...sweetie, he's not entirely to blame.”  
  
Elise groaned.  
  
“You probably gave him the wrong idea when you, y'know, _slept_ with him? He should've fired you right off the bat.”  
  
“I know, I know...”  
  
“Why'd you even do it in the first place? Before it happened you never even mentioned him. It's not like you were crushing on him or anything, were you?”  
  
She let the string of garland fall into her lap and set to rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Because...he needed me. And that was the only way I could help him.”  
  
Erika was quiet again. It was like she was giving Elise time to think, a chance to go back over the events that made things like that come to pass, but Elise didn't _want_ to consider them. She just wanted to forget they ever happened in the first place.  
  
She gave Erika another few seconds to speak before she did so for her. “So. This summer. We totally need to do something.”  
  
“You remembered!”  
  
“Of _course_ I remembered! Are you kidding?!” Elise smiled. “I wanna see you! I wanna see _everybody!_ ”  
  
“You're telling me.” Erika chuckled. “Life's as dull as tombs over here.”  
  
Elise flipped over onto her belly on the couch and began drawing patterns on its arm with her finger. “I think we need to go ahead and get everybody on board. We're gonna have to put down deposits, make sure everything's squared away, all that. When do you think we'll go?”  
  
“I'm thinking early May or mid-May'd be best. Y'know, so it'd be warm some places, but not really all that crowded yet.”  
  
“Perfect.” She smiled wider. “And I'm thinking the beach.”  
  
“Oh, definitely, but _which_ beach?”  
  
She squinted in thought. “We could hit South Carolina...”  
  
“Yeah...”  
  
“...but I'm thinking Florida might be better.”  
  
“And totally more expensive.”  
  
Elise shrugged. “We can handle that. It won't be high tourist season yet. And if we go ahead and get a quote on a condo or something and split up the cost, whoever'd be going would have plenty of time to get everything together.”  
  
“Jesus, I can't wait. Think we can get all the Top Ten together again?”  
  
“We can try,” Elise murmured with a smile.  
  
There was a long moment of silence where Elise was distracted with the glint of the Christmas lights on her tree until it became just awkward enough for her to realize that Erika still hadn't said a word. Elise checked the connection before furrowing her brow. “You there, Erika?”  
  
“Yeah! Yeah, I just...I was just thinking.”  
  
“You wanna talk about it?” Elise asked.  
  
Erika paused again before she huffed out a quick sigh. “Are you going to be... _okay_ if everyone comes?”  
  
“Yeah. What're you talking about? I love everybody.”  
  
“I mean, I know some people won't be able to be there. Jess's got her summer tour about to start, and I saw on Twitter that Josh's going to do some charity work in Africa through April and May...”  
  
“...and Phil'll probably have his tour too, of course, and -”  
  
“Elise, Phil's album won't even be releasing until July.”  
  
Her eyes widened. She sat up on the couch. “You serious?”  
  
“Yeah. He's only just about to get his first single out here in February. You didn't know that?”  
  
All her air left her in a single, long gasp. No. No, she hadn't known that. And that made everything look a little different, a little frayed around the edges. “I...I just assumed...”  
  
“That's what I was talking about, girl,” Erika murmured. “You gonna be okay if Phil's able to be there?”  
  
Phil. She could handle the drunk texts. She could even talk about him like he was just a normal person. All of that was easy when he was hundreds or thousands of miles away from her. But staying with him in a condo for a week, being in a bedroom near his...  
  
“You there, babe?” Erika asked.  
  
Elise dropped her head against the back of the couch. “Jesus, Erika, how am I gonna do this?”  
  
“You haven't seen him since the tour, have you?” Erika asked quickly.  
  
“No, no, I haven't, but he...I'm pretty sure he drunk texted me a couple of weeks ago-”  
  
“What'd he say?”  
  
“Oh God, he said a lot of things. But he was...it was like a day hadn't even gone by. He was flirting with me all over again and I didn't have a clue what to do.”  
  
She listened to Erika sigh in exasperation. “I tell you, I love that kid, but sometimes I just wanna hit him upside the head.”  
  
“You're telling me.” She reached up and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't even care if she was smearing her makeup this time around. There was nobody to impress tonight. “I-I know it was all a mistake when it happened. But I don't...I don't wanna give it room to happen again, y'know?”  
  
Erika got quiet again, and Elise wanted to reach through the phone and hug her for that. She was so sensitive to what Elise needed at all times, the consummate best friend. It was for that reason that Elise knew she wouldn't be offended when she said “I need to think.”  
  
Erika hummed in sympathy again. “You gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I'm fine. Just...go ahead and get in touch with everybody, all right? And if we're all supposed to be together, it'll happen, and if not...”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Elise forced a smile, as if Erika was right there in the room with her. “And don't worry about me, okay?”  
  
“Elise...”  
  
“Seriously. I'm just tired and thinking too hard.” She laughed. “So I'm gonna lay down and go to sleep and everything'll be great in the morning. You want me to start getting some condo prices on the beach for, what, the second week of May or so?”  
  
“Sounds perfect. I love you, girlie, okay?”  
  
“Love you too. Bye.”  
  
As soon as she hung up the phone, Elise was filled with an overwhelming sense of fatigue. It was all she could do to drag herself to the bathroom and start getting ready for bed.  
  
Through removing her makeup, she thought about Phil. She brushed her teeth and heard his gravely laugh. She washed her face and saw his iridescent eyes. She combed her hair and smelled the heady scent of musk that clung to the hollow of his collarbone.  
  
This boy was a disease, wasn't he? He'd infected her a few months ago, and he was still here to stay.  
  
On a show as stressful as Idol, there were two choices for all the contestants: make enemies or make support for yourself. Elise was one of those girls who couldn't figure out how to make an enemy if she tried, mostly because the whole effort of having one was both exhausting and cruel, and so she'd done her best to befriend every single person in the mansion. She and Erika had been a fast match, of course, as the two old fogies running around all the hip youngsters, but no matter how much they clicked they couldn't give each other everything. Elise was too maternal, too caring, for all of that energy to be wasted on a single individual.  
  
She began by fostering trust and influence over the younger girls, especially Hollie and Skylar. She moved on to high-fives with DeAndre and sudden gospel improv with Joshua, a little more accomplished on his part than hers. She had piano-playing sessions with Colton and ice-cream-devourings with Jessica and even crazy dance-offs with Heejun at three in the morning, when neither of them could sleep. But Phil had been a mystery from the start, and she never really knew how to approach him.  
  
Being thrown into a trio with him helped wonders, to say the least. She and Colton were already pretty worn into each other by that point – the two of them used the same hairspray, go figure – but Phil, who was so clingy with Heejun, had seemed out of his element. She remembered Colton working hard to charm him out of his thick skin, asking his advice on little choreography the two of them could do while they BGV'd for Elise's Stevie Nicks cover, and how adorable it was to see the two of them bond together like the kids they still were.  
  
She especially remembered the way she'd tried to loosen up, to make her ability to reach the higher notes easier while still making it look natural to an audience. She practiced over and over again in front of the large, full-length mirrors in the practice rooms all by herself, trilling the notes over and over again, but never quite relaxing. And then she'd seen Phil in the doorway there, watching her. “You're thinking too hard,” he'd said. “You don't need to fight so hard to impress everybody. You're already amazing. You just gotta believe that. You're here for a reason, y'know?” He'd came into the room and touched her shoulders and forced them to relax, and when she finally had he'd given her a brilliant grin worthy of a rock star. “Just play and have fun, and so will everybody else.”  
  
She gotten up on that stage that Wednesday and had the time of her life, and she'd been rewarded with a little eyebrow flourish and hip wiggle from Phil from across the stage. _See?_ he'd seemed to say. _Not so scary, is it?_  
  
Things had changed from then on out. Phil and Heejun were bros, yeah, but she and Phil and Colton were as inseparable as the rest of them. They ate meals together, they rehearsed together, they gave each other advice on song choices and arrangement decisions, and, when it came right down to it, they stuck closer than glue. They always had. But Phil had an advantage over Colton. Colton was a sweetheart, but whenever Elise needed to vent to somebody, he wasn't the best guy to go to. He comforted, yes, but he seemed compelled to offer advice to fix whatever was wrong, too, not just to listen and rant and rave _with_ her.  
  
And so, while she developed all those different support systems with everybody else, Phil needed a designation too. And he became the drinking-slash-ranting buddy.  
  
It started out with just a beer every once and a while. As the stress of the show went on, that went up to a shot or two every week. They could talk about anything. They could be completely vulnerable to each other and never think a thing about it.  
  
Elise crawled into bed and curled up into a tight ball. It was hard, thinking about how quickly everything went bad between them, and she'd been avoiding thinking about it for months now. But she couldn't keep running. Eventually it needed to catch her. Maybe tonight was that night.  
  
She closed her eyes. She let the memory catch her. She let it flow.  
  
It was the night after Colton was eliminated.  
  
“It isn't the same,” Elise murmured. Her words were already slurring together a little bit, but not enough for her to lose track of the living room around her.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Phil added. “I mean, it's not like the kid was here drinking with us every night, but he _could've_ been, and now...”  
  
“Yeah.” She considered the bottle of brandy nearby. She leaned forward and filled her shot glass again. “I miss him already.”  
  
“Jesus. What time is it?”  
  
“Three hours after we should've gone to bed.”  
  
“Pssh. Whatever. I can't sleep anyways now. That whole side of the mansion's too quiet with him and Heejun gone. Hey, pass that over here.”  
  
She held the bottle out to him. It took a little doing, but Phil finally managed to grab it solidly. His fingers brushed against hers as he did so, and her eyes snapped to his face. He was focusing on pouring his drink again. “Yeah. It's the same for me. Erika's gone, and don't get me wrong, Skylar and Hollie are sweethearts, but they're not...the same...”  
  
“Oh, don't cry.”  
  
“I'm not crying,” she insisted. She nursed a sip from the shot to prove it or to swallow the deep despair in the pit of her stomach, whichever came first. “I'm just...verklempt.”  
  
“The hell's that mean?”  
  
“I think it's Yiddish.”  
  
“And I think you're crazy.” Phil stood up from his chair and scooted his way toward Elise's couch. He plopped down beside her and threw his arm around behind her. “C'mere, lean on me.”  
  
She blinked. “That's real sweet of you, Phil. It's like Colton finally taught you a thing or two.”  
  
“Shut up or I'm going back to the chair,” he said with a smile.  
  
She leaned. She rested her head on his shoulder. When he didn't complain, she tucked herself in a little closer, resting her free hand on his stomach.  
  
He had a really nice stomach, actually. She furrowed her brow as she stared at it, wondering how it looked beneath his t-shirt, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him shirtless by the pool, if she'd ever paid attention or if she'd tried to pretend that she wasn't. There was some muscle definition there under her fingers. Not a six pack, not that far advanced, but enough to carry some level of fitness. She tilted her head to the side, burying her head further into the crook of his neck. “Say, why d'you always wear baggy shirts?”  
  
“Wha?”  
  
“Like, why don't you ever dress like Colton did? He looked good like that. His clothes actually fit him.”  
  
“My clothes fit me just fine!” Phil spluttered with a certain degree of outrage.  
  
“Whatever,” she teased. She took another sip of her shot. “You might as well be wearing a potato sack or something compared to him.”  
  
“I guess you'd prefer if I didn't wear any shirt at all, 's that what you're saying?” he drawled.  
  
“I mean, you're not bad-looking! Why'd you wanna hide that if you look good?”  
  
He gently nudged her away from him, and he met her eyes as he set his shot glass aside. He never once severed eye contact. He simply grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.  
  
Elise's eyes grew huge. “Phil!”  
  
“Don't look so shocked,” he said with a quiet laugh. “'S what I'm supposed to look like. I'm a redneck through and through,” he said, intentionally thickening his accent with every word he spoke.  
  
Elise chuckled as well, but no matter how much she told herself to behave like a good girl, her eyes were suddenly flicking over his skin. They were taking in the evenness of his tan, the chest hairs spreading over his pectorals, the solidness of the muscles she saw coming into being across his stomach. She wondered what they'd feel like.  
  
Before she knew what she was doing she was _discovering_ what they felt like. Her glass was on the table next to his and she was running her fingers over his stomach like she was sculpting pottery. She heard the hitch in Phil's breath, felt the muscles contract beneath her touch, and she felt a thrill shoot through her, a heady desire that pooled at the base of her abdomen. She needed more. She needed to know what happened next if she let her fingers continue their journey.  
  
She needed to be closer to him - _needed_ it, or she'd _die_ \- and so she threw a leg over his hips and straddled him and let her hands wander upward, grazing the edge of his nipples, tracing the contours of his pectoral muscles, hungrily taking in every twitch of his body and thud of his jugular vein in response to her movements.  
  
When her eyes drifted to his face, to his flushed cheeks, his parted lips, his unfocused eyes, she knew she couldn't stop, not unless he begged her to.  
  
“Please,” he whispered harshly, his hands tentatively crawling up her thighs and blazing a stream of fire behind them. “Don't...don't stop.”  
  
The first kiss had been sweet, tinged with the taste of brandy and the gum Phil'd been chewing earlier that evening. She'd known, even as they'd stumbled to Phil's bedroom and made love in his bed, that she'd never forget how he'd tasted.  
  
She'd also never forget waking up the next morning and being face-to-face with a bright, vibrant photograph of Phil's girlfriend taped to his wall next to his bed.  
  
Never again. Never again, she'd told herself, and she'd stuck to her guns. She knew Phil wanted the same. She'd heard him apologize a billion times, like she wasn't to blame for goading him in the first place, like he was the sole perpetrator even though he'd let her take the full lead. And they'd managed. Every day was a little awkward, it was true, but they worked through it, and they fought to regain the solidity of their friendship until neither could doubt the other's sincerity.  
  
But as Elise lay in bed tonight, feeling warm and overheated and out of breath, she recognized that no matter what, she'd still taste him for the rest of her days. And she had a feeling she wasn't anywhere close to overcoming it.


	8. Chapter 8

Now that it was in his hands, it was difficult for Phil to process. Here it was, the first copy of his first single for his second album, physical and real and ready to be shipped out to the masses. He slowly exhaled as he traced his fingers over the cover of the case.  
  
“You think you'd be used to it by now,” Jacob murmured with a smile.  
  
Phil cocked an eyebrow as he met Jacob's eyes before he shrugged. “The whole thing's still surreal, man. It doesn't matter how many singles I sell from now until I die, it's _still_ going to be crazy when it's all over.”  
  
Jacob clapped a hand on Phil's shoulder and squeezed it. “And that's what the fans like about you. You're still natural. You're still yourself, even after earning however many thousands of dollars doing what you love.” He let him go and began to walk down the hallway to the front door of Phil's apartment. “Gonna go home this weekend? Share this with your family?”  
  
He flicked his eyes back down to the CD in his hands and furrowed his brows. “...nah. Probably not. They're busy. Got some banquet at church they're setting up for and all that.”  
  
“I see,” Jacob said in a tone of voice that told Phil he actually wasn't all that interested. That was fine. Phil could deal with that. Jacob was a manager, not a friend, and Phil didn't have any qualms about that fact. “Well, I just wanted to drop that off, let you take a listen to it. I've gotta run. Got a kid at the studio working on his first album.”  
  
Any other night Phil would've asked who the kid was, wondered if they'd work together in the future, but instead his mind was on different things. “Oh yeah? Betsy doing the tracking for that?”  
  
Jacob paused with his hand on the doorknob and frowned. “No, actually, surprisingly not. She's lived in the studio for the past few months, but she requested the night off about a month ago.” And then he shrugged. “Maybe an early Valentine's date or something? Not for me to ask why, of course.”  
  
Phil was suddenly incredibly conscious of the shape and weight of his cell phone in his pocket. He had a feeling he knew why.  
  
“Anyway, you have a good day, Phil, all right? I'll see you on Monday? We've still got a ton of work to do to get this album ready by July.”  
  
He slowly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll see you then.”  
  
When the door shut behind Jacob, Phil didn't even take the time to lock it behind him. He sat down on the couch and stared at the single in his hands and wondered at the way his heart was starting to beat a little erratically.  
  
It was the second Friday in February. It was _entirely_ possible that Betsy had a date tonight with her alleged girlfriend instead of braving the crowds for Valentine's Day. But wasn't it equally possible that she had been prepared, even back in January, to keep up her end of the bargain?  
  
He exhaled slowly to try to screw his head on straight. There wasn't much doing. There were only so many things he could do to try to prepare himself for something he didn't even know why he was so excited about. And then he set the single aside, pulled out his phone, and began to scroll backward through his text messages.  
  
There was the one from Erika, confirming that she'd gotten his share of the deposit for the Idol Beach Extravaganza, as she'd taken to calling it. Then the picturemail from Heejun showing the matching Batman and Robin swim trunks he joked about buying for the both of them just to make Colton playfully mad when he and Phil showed up at the beach wearing the same outfit. Hannah was next, telling him about the plans she'd made for Valentine's Day and how she couldn't wait until he came home for it. Also the text from Colton saying that his little sister's surgery had gone well and that she was resting up. Finally, there was Betsy's texts, from the last time that they texted way back around Christmas.  
  
Well. He couldn't just sit here staring at them and hoping that Betsy texted him first. If he wanted to get something done, he needed to do it instead of waiting for somebody else to do it for him.  
  
' _I got the single. Sounds great.'_ he texted.  
  
He didn't have to wait long for a response. _'I figured you had haha. Jacob was crazy about it._  
  
He hesitated. And then his fingers spelled out the next thought on his mind. ' _You doing anything tonight? Recording?_ '  
  
 _'Nah. I think I'm gonna go out to Jefferson's, get a drink. Made a promise to someone I'd get one with them._ '  
  
He smiled despite himself. ' _What time?_ '  
  
' _9pm?'_  
  
' _I'll see you there._ '  
  
' _Awesome!'_  
  
It was done. He had a time to get together with her. He'd finally get to figure her out a little more, and in only three hours, at that.  
  
It was hard for him to describe why he was so curious about Betsy in the first place. Part of it was that she was a genuinely attractive girl, he had to admit that. She was sweet. She was funny. She was quirky. And she understood how it was to be a musician, a _true_ musician, and how to work with him because of it. But he had to admit that he was also fascinated by her. Here was a girl who refused to be called a lesbian, yet insisted that she was in a relationship with another woman? Was she one of those new-age people attaching labels to herself that Phil had yet to figure out exactly what they meant? Was she bi-sexual? Did she even care what she was in the first place? The point was that she was _different_ , and Phil found himself wanting to understand that as soon as he could.  
  
He puttered around the apartment aimlessly while waiting for the next few hours to tick by. He played his guitar. He scribbled down some song lyrics that he recognized were atrocious even as he wrote them. He tried to watch something on TV. When the time came closer, he dressed himself in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt, and some comfortable tennis shoes, and combed his hair and even spritzed on a dash of cologne, something that he hoped wouldn't overwhelm her with its scent. Even he had to admit that he looked nice. And so he went on his way.  
  
By the time that he arrived at the bar, he was ready for a drink to calm his nerves. He let his feet carry him straight to the counter, his eyes sweeping up and down the stools, before he caught sight of a head of inky black, curly hair. Betsy. He approached the stool beside her, which was occupied by her purse, and leaned against the back of it. He waited for her to look at him and smile. “Phil!”  
  
“Hey there.”  
  
She hopped off her stool and threw her arms around him with a huge grin on her face. “Congrats on the single. You kicked ass getting that thing done.”  
  
“You're one to talk,” he said with a laugh as he hugged her back. “You made me sound like a god.”  
  
“Well, that's not too hard to manage.” The two of them took their seats, and she waited for Phil to order a draft beer before she tilted her head to the side and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Bet it's a relief to get the first one done.”  
  
“Only in the way that I have the first piece of the puzzle complete, you know? I've still got twelve more songs to get done. Thanks,” he added to the bartender, slipping him the money for the drink and a massive tip besides. He felt jolly tonight. He might as well let everybody else celebrate it too. “You wanna go grab a table somewhere?”  
  
Betsy shrugged. “Sure. A little more privacy that way.”  
  
Oh, she knew the questions he was going to ask, didn't she? It was written all over her face. She looked happy, yes, and even playful, but there was a guard in her eyes that told him she was trying to figure out exactly how she was going to phrase the answers to his inevitable questions.  
  
As they made their way to an empty booth in the corner, Phil found himself wondering if he shouldn't even question her. This was her private life. It was her business, no one else's. But, at the same time, she'd invited him to ask about the things he was curious about. They had a deal, and he'd fulfilled his side of the bargain. So why shouldn't she do the same?  
  
They settled into the squishy seats opposite of each other, and Phil watched her face as he took a long drink from his beer. She kept flicking her eyes around the room with a sort of nervous energy. He waited until she met his eyes again before he tilted his head to the side. “You know what I wanna ask about, don't you?”  
  
She smiled tentatively. “Yeah, I guess I do.”  
  
“You wanna just go ahead and talk about the inevitable?”  
  
She chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess we'd better.”  
  
Phil leaned back into the seat and kicked his feet out in front of him. He rested his folded hands comfortably on top of his stomach and quirked a brow. “...so you're with a girl.”  
  
She nodded. “I am.”  
  
“What's her name?”  
  
Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked down at the table and smiled wider. “Angelica.”  
  
Phil nodded in turn. “Nice name. How'd you meet her?”  
  
He watched Betsy crinkle her brow as she thought. It was endearing. Made her look eighteen instead of twenty-eight. “I met her in college. I think it was in our History of Recording Technology class.”  
  
Phil chuckled. “Sounds like it was a boatload of fun.”  
  
“Oh, totally.” Betsy rolled her eyes. “The professor was this old man with hair growing out of his ears who refused to acknowledge that tapedecks were going out of style. Things like CDs replacing them? Or better yet, y'know, MP3 players? You could forget it. They were all just gonna be blips on the radar.” She waved the memory of this professor away with one hand. “So she and I sat in the back and took notes in our notebooks and wrote little side comments to each other in the margins the whole time. It was great. We ended up becoming roommates at the end of that semester.”  
  
“Was this your freshman year?”  
  
“Sophomore year, fall semester.”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“We stayed close after we graduated. Always said we'd be in each other's weddings, things like that. She'd come down to visit me for a weekend every few months, and I'd go see her, and we'd keep each other up to date with the things we were doing in our lives.”  
  
He tilted his head to the side. “So is she a lesbian, then?”  
  
Betsy rubbed the back of her neck. “She is. At the time, though, she was closeted, I think. Closeted pretty massively. She grew up deep in the Bible Belt, you see, and it wasn't exactly a safe environment for coming out.”  
  
He nodded again.  
  
“Anyway, I became closer to her than I'd ever been to any of my friends before. She was like my _sister,_ basically. We could talk about anything. We'd cuddle watching movies and go dress shopping together and all this stuff. I didn't have any idea she was gay until maybe a year and a half ago or so. She sat me down and confessed it all. It blew my mind.”  
  
“Did it make you feel weird, though? That you'd known her that long and never known?”  
  
She shrugged. “A little. It was weirder because I'd seen her go out with guys before. She even had a boyfriend or two for a while, and she gave me enough details that I knew she'd slept with them. It didn't really make sense in my mind, you know?”  
  
He nodded. It wasn't really making sense in his mind either.  
  
“But she ended up just telling me that she was tired of hiding. She wanted to be open and honest with everybody about herself, and she figured she could start with me.”  
  
He nodded once more and took a drink as he waited for her to go on.  
  
Betsy thought for a long few seconds, drumming her fingers against the table, before she sighed. “Angelica's always been gorgeous. Like, I'm pretty confident she could've gone off and done some modeling if she hadn't been so set on being a recording engineer like me. And so there were days that I'd see her and just go 'Jesus, that woman's beautiful, why is she bothering being friends with a girl like me?' And it was weird, because sometimes it would just hit me that, damn, I was really enjoying looking at her. I could look at her all day. And my heart'd pound a little faster and I'd just get...”  
  
“...excited,” he murmured.  
  
“Yeah. But it was weird.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because no other woman in the world had ever made me feel like that. Ever.” She ran a hand through her hair in a way that Phil recognized as exasperated. “So after she told me she was a lesbian, I started questioning myself and my sexuality.”  
  
“And what did you figure out?” he asked, leaning forward.  
  
“That, when it comes right down to it, I'm not a lesbian. I'm not. I'm straight. I look at attractive men and I go crazy,” she said with a chuckle. “I've slept with plenty of guys, and it was friggin' awesome, you know?”  
  
He smiled. He could assume.  
  
“But Angelica made me...feel... _exactly_ like I felt with those guys. And one day I just decided that I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to know if it would feel the same.”  
  
He was on the edge of his seat listening to this. He was glued to the entire conversation. His hand tightened around his glass of beer as he watched her sigh.  
  
“...and it wasn't the same at all.”  
  
He blinked. “It wasn't?”  
  
“No. It was... _better._ ”  
  
He exhaled slowly. “...and after that?”  
  
“I needed to figure myself out. Get my head in a good space. I knew Angelica had been burned before. I didn't want her to think I was just playing around, experimenting, and that I'd leave her alone after that and go back to the rest of the boys in the world.” Betsy bit her bottom lip, tracing her finger around the rim of her martini glass while little flecks of sugar fell to the table. “...so I did. I took a couple of weeks away from her. And I couldn't stop thinking about her. So...” She shrugged. “We got together. We started dating. And a few months later, we committed ourselves to each other, said we were exclusive. And here we are.”  
  
Phil leaned back against his seat again, his eyes becoming unfocused as he stared into his beer. “That's so strange.” And then he realized how that could be construed, and he quickly met Betsy's eyes again. “Not that it's wrong! Or weird!”  
  
She smiled. She was enjoying watching him squirm, he realized.  
  
“I just...I've never heard of something like that. You know? You're either gay or you're straight. The only in-between's if you are attracted to /both/ genders, you know what I mean? It's never that you're straight, but this girl over here just rocks your world like nothing else.”  
  
Her smile grew. “It's...kind of like I'm heterosexual, but with a trace of Angelica-sexual as well.”  
  
He laughed. “I...guess that makes sense?”  
  
She shrugged. “I don't know. Some days it doesn't even make sense to _me._ But it happened. And I couldn't ignore that. I had to find out what it meant.”  
  
“And what does it mean?” he asked, tilting his head.  
  
Her eyes flicked up to the wall, and as he watched she melted into a place of pure joy. It looked beautiful on her. “...it means that...I'm in love. And I want to spend the rest of my life with her. No matter what it means for either of us.”  
  
He nodded slowly.  
  
“It's always hard to explain to people. And God knows my parents still don't understand it. But it's something that's more real than any other relationship I've ever been in. And so I'm going to keep it.”  
  
For a long few moments they both sunk into silence. Phil considered what it would be like in his own life. It'd be like if he suddenly experienced an out-of-this-world attraction to Heejun, for example, and that just made him chuckle. Heejun was fun, yeah, but he was about as sexy as tube socks, and Phil couldn't find a single thing that attracted him to him no matter how hard he tried. Fun to think about, but it wasn't anything that could actually happen to him.  
  
Eventually he and Betsy began to talk about other things. They talked about the album and getting it ready. They discussed his own life and the audition process of getting onto Idol. They shared so much that when they inevitably split for the night and went to their own homes, Phil found himself thinking less about how pretty she was and more about how she could end up being a really great friend to him. It was nice. He lay in bed that night and texted Hannah a quick good night text, about how he couldn't wait to see her in a week, and then he closed his eyes and began to drift off. And, just before he fell asleep, he thought about Florida, and the beach, and about him and Colton and Elise all in a line in the sand just chilling out, just like it always used to be.


	9. Chapter 9

“This party is very important, Colton.”  
  
“I know, Mom.”  
  
“And I want to make it as perfect as possible. It's a celebration, you know?”  
  
“Definitely. It's a big deal.”  
  
His mother drifted off, then, her eyes focusing in the distance, and Colton wondered what kind of obscure detail she'd forgotten to write down this time. Normally he respected her need to make everything absolutely perfect if only because it was a reminder of just how much she cared, but right now it was catching him by surprise, maybe even annoying him.  
  
She came back to the moment. “Anyway, I was hoping you could write her a special song.” She beamed at him. “Something maybe thanking God for getting her through this valley, you know, and maybe a prayer to get her through the chemo and radiation safely?”  
  
Sometimes requests and suggestions could make the creative juices flow a little faster. Most of the time, however, they just stifled him. This was one of those times. “I'll see what I can make happen,” he said. He had absolutely no confidence in it, but he didn't need her to know that, not right now.  
  
The surgery in and of itself hadn't been too stressful to Schyler, as far as he knew. She'd taken everything seriously, from the special soap and shampoo she had to use to the medication that prepared her system for the invasive treatment, and the day they wheeled her away she'd held Dad's hand and dried Mom's tears and hugged Colton tightly and told them all not to worry because God was going to take care of her. She'd been a force to be reckoned with, the very essence of bravery, and she'd even smiled as they went around the corner.  
  
The rest of them had sat in the frigid waiting room, his mother and father huddled with old magazines and Colton in the corner staring into space. His phone had vibrated with well-wishes almost constantly, to the point where he'd put it on silent and ignored it.  
  
He'd only answered two of those texts: Elise's, reminding him how strong Schyler was and how quickly she'd bounce back, and Phil's, telling him he was sending Schyler autographed singles that hadn't even been released yet for her to memorize for his next concert. Neither of the texts had anything to do with God's provision or preparing him for the worst. They were normal. They were genuine instead of Hallmark cards or Lifeway plaques. Maybe that was why they'd struck him like they had.  
  
But now it was March. Now everything looked in order, and Mom was ready to celebrate before all the illness and weakness of chemo and radiation started. It looked to Colton like she was prepared to move the Earth itself if that was what it took to give Schyler a happy memory to cling to.  
  
“Oh, no, I forgot to check on the package!” That's what that detail had been, then. She spun around and click-clacked all the way to the computer in her high heels. She was ordering a massively padded bra to ease Schyler through the transition, especially now that her surgery scars had healed so considerably, as well as several allegedly cute hats, and Colton knew his mother would count this entire little party a failure if they didn't get to the house on time.  
  
The roughest part of the entire experience, actually, was seeing Schyler in their dad's enormous shirts and hoodies to hide what the double mastectomy took away from her. Colton felt guilty, like he should've shied away from girl pants and straight-edge hoodies in his adolescence so he could have had clothes for her to wear instead. But his wardrobe was skinnier and tighter than hers ever was. He had nothing to offer her.  
  
He distracted himself from the poisonous thoughts by letting his eyes drift to the magnetic calendar on the fridge, to the giant red X drawn on the day two weeks from now, when her first chemotherapy treatment would begin. She was at her follow-up visit right now, accompanied by Dad, to tell her all the things she needed to prepare for, and it was Colton's job to distract her for the rest of the day once she got back while their mom finished making phone calls for the party. He wasn't sure when she expected him to write a song if the party was in four days, but he had to do something, didn't he?  
  
The phone ran, and he jumped. He answered it immediately on instinct. “Hello?”  
  
“Colton, hey! This is Tracy. Can you put your mom on?”  
  
Tracy, cake-maker extraordinaire, charged with making Schyler's party even sweeter. “Sure, just a sec.” He set the phone down on the kitchen table and wandered to the entryway to call up the stairs. “Mom? Tracy's on the-” He suddenly became aware of a strange sound coming from outside the front door. It chilled him to the bone. When the door swung open to reveal a red-eyed Schyler being walked in by their father, he felt his entire heart – no, his whole _person_ \- split right down the middle. She was sobbing so hard that she couldn't even look at him, and his father made only brief eye contact just before he guided her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. She immediately pulled a sofa pillow into her arms and muffled her cries in it. Dad didn't waste a minute. He began to head for the stairs without a moment to lose.  
  
Colton took off after him. “Dad. Dad!”  
  
“Just give me a second, Colt,” he murmured, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn't even give Colton more than a passing glance.  
  
The urgency inside of Colton was suddenly being coupled with anger. “Dad, just tell me what's wrong.”  
  
“I need to-”  
  
“What did the doctor say? Is she okay?”  
  
“I just need to find your mother...”  
  
“ _Dad!_ ”  
  
His father came to a stop halfway up the stairs. He slowly turned to face Colton.  
  
“Tell. Me. What's. Wrong.”  
  
He looked over Colton's head, peering into the living room where the sobbing began to intensify. He sighed. “It's...in her lymph nodes.”  
  
His heart stopped clean in his chest. He wondered if this was maybe how it felt right before a person died. “...they said...they were clean, though.”  
  
“They missed it.” His father took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses on his shirt. “They...it's...spreading alarmingly fast.”  
  
“Can't they just take it out?” he asked softly.  
  
His father slowly nodded. “She's scheduled for surgery in a few days. But that's not necessarily infallible. It could...be spread even farther than they currently anticipate. And, if so, that's going to be difficult to get around.”  
  
“Jesus,” he whispered. He was barely aware of his father jerking his head up to look at him, but not saying a word. Colton was too busy rubbing his eyes, trying to press away the nightmare before it rooted itself deeper into reality. “I...Dad, I-”  
  
“I need to go tell your mother. We'll talk later, okay? Family meeting before dinner.” And, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time to escape the situation.  
  
Colton stared after him with wide eyes. He understood. He really did. And yet deep in the base of him, beneath the maturity and the understanding and the faith, he felt it: a quiet, bubbling rage.  
  
The slow awareness of it startled him. He shouldn't be angry. He had no _right_ to be angry, because there wasn't anything to be angry at, right? Cancer struck randomly, indiscriminately, and never because it was deserved. So if he wasn't mad at the illness...what _was_ he angry at?  
  
 _It's your father._  
  
Yes. Yes, it was. It was the man who was originally going to let his wife tell Colton the bad news because he was a coward. And now he was leaving Colton to pick up Schyler's broken pieces instead of doing his job as a father and fixing it himself.  
  
Colton dragged his fingers through his hair with a long, drawn-out sigh, purposely breathing through his nose to try to calm himself down. Anger didn't suit him. It was an emotion that he felt so rarely that he wasn't sure how to handle it. He was scared of it.  
  
He took himself into the kitchen first, to the phone, and spoke softly into the receiver. “Tracy, Mom's gonna have to call you back later.” And without even waiting for a reply he hung up. He turned to look at the living room.  
  
He wasn't just scared of the anger. He was scared of _this._  
  
As he stared, he realized that somewhere over the past minute or two the sounds of crying had faded into nothingness, and he was scared to go in and see the shell of his sister that had been left behind. But he had to. Clearly his father wouldn't, and Colton was terrified to put even an ounce more pressure on his mother. She was carrying so much right now that she was bound to snap.  
  
He mentally suited up. He grabbed his baseball cap from the counter and put it on like a helmet. And then he walked into the fray.  
  
Schyler wasn't curled up into a ball. She had no tears on her face. All she had was the sofa pillow on her lap and her hands laced on top of it. Her eyes immediately landed on him as soon as he came through the doorway, and though it was obvious that she was trying to smile it came across as gruesome and cynical. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” He was a soldier trying to cross a minefield without a sweeper. He crept across the plush carpet in his sock feet, one careful step at a time. “How are you?”  
  
She nodded. “Better now. A good cry fixes everything.”  
  
He didn't believe her. But he couldn't say that either, could he? “Yeah.” He made his way to the couch and sat beside her, half-thinking the cushion would be soaked with her tears. He sat in silence with her for a few moments before deciding he might as well come out and say what he was thinking, since there was no way that anybody else would. “Lymph nodes. Dad told me.”  
  
Schyler flinched and quickly looked away. “Yeah.” And then she tensed up, eyes widening. “I-it's not as bad as you probably think it is, though, really. It's just another surgery, you know?” Another forced smile. “Seriously. No big deal.”  
  
Had she always been such a good liar? He found himself wondering if she'd been lying to him about stuff their entire lives, if maybe he was only now just starting to pick up on it. But he didn't feel confident enough to call her out, not when he was pretty sure that she was just barely holding herself together under the surface. “How far back is this gonna set your chemo treatments?”  
  
“Oh, probably not that far. Won't be too bad. Before you know it, it'll all be over.”  
  
“I'm glad,” he said softly. He fingered his cell phone and pulled it into the palm of his hand. “I'll have to tell Erika when I call her that-”  
  
“Why're you gonna call her?”  
  
Colton blinked. “To tell her I can't come to the beach in May.”  
  
“No!” she burst out, jolting to the very edge of the cushion. “You _have_ to go!”  
  
He stared at her, lowering his brows. “Schyler, you're having another surgery. You might need even _more,_ and even if you _don't,_ you'll be having chemo and radiation. Do you know how sick you're gonna be? The whole reason I was going in the first place is because your treatments were gonna be almost over by then.”  
  
Schyler was already shaking her head before he'd even finished his first sentence. “I'll be _fine,_ Colton. I don't want you putting your life on hold for me. That's the _last_ thing I want.”  
  
The anger was coming back, and he looked away just before he gritted his teeth. He was trying to do his job as a brother. He'd sit right beside her at a hair salon and get his head shaved too, if that's what she wanted. But he didn't know what to do when she was being like this, saying the exact opposite of what he was expecting. Did she truly know her own mind or was she in denial? “Schyler...”  
  
When she took his hand and squeezed it, he felt his eyes grow wet. “I'm not being brave, Colton,” she murmured. “There'll be eighty other Mays that we can hang out in, but this might be the last time ya'll can get together.” She made sure he was looking at her before she spoke again, eyes full of urgency but with a dryness to her tone. “I promise I won't throw up more than twice until you get back to mop my forehead.”  
  
All he wanted to do was whatever she wanted. He'd take the chemo with her. He'd puke right beside her. He'd sing her lullabies when she couldn't sleep at night from the crying and make her any food she wanted and write her a million songs, if only she would ask. But she wasn't. She was asking him to leave her right when things were going to be getting toughest.  
  
He jerked his eyes away from hers. He had to, or he'd start crying, and he wasn't ready to show that part of him if she was going to be so strong. Nothing was even _happening_ to him, for Pete's sake. “I don't know if I'll have any fun while I'm gone,” he said, a last ditch effort to get her to cave.  
  
She squeezed his hand gently one more time. “Try. For me.”  
  
He would. Whatever she asked.


	10. Chapter 10

Before even five minutes of her shift had passed, Elise knew that something was wrong. It wasn't just the fact that it was peculiarly busy for a Tuesday night when no games were playing. It was the very air hanging all around the bar. It felt anxious, but expectant too, like the entire city would explode if something didn't come to pass soon.  
  
She didn't like this feeling. Tonight was supposed to be normal. All she wanted was to finish out this week and make a butt-ton of tips that she could spend at the beach over the next two weeks with the crew, and that'd be it. She'd get her well-deserved vacation and come back feeling refreshed and ready to make even more money, money to sustain her as she started the music career she deserved. But she couldn't do that if she felt uneasy like this, could she?  
  
She was concocting a bloody mary at breakneck speeds when Vanessa showed up for her shift. She was fifteen minutes late, unsurprisingly, and Elise was beyond relieved to see her. “Oh, Vanessa, thank God!”  
  
“Sup,” was the answer she received as the Latina shouldered past her to put her things up, nearly upsetting the tomato juice as Elise was pouring.  
  
Elise figured that she shouldn't be surprised at that either. Vanessa had been snapping at her for weeks now, and it didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. But this wasn't the place to have it out. Right here, right now, she was five drinks behind and desperately needing the help. “Hey, can you grab a Sam Adams draft for the dude at the end of the bar?”  
  
“In a minute,” Vanessa said breezily. She took her time with putting up her purse and coat, until Elise was ready to throw the beer glass at her head.  
  
In the time it took Elise to deliver the bloody mary and to complete a pina colada, all Vanessa had managed to do was clock in. Elise waited until she had the glass in her hand, a clear sign that she was actually going to work now, before she spoke again. “And the guy in the Ramones t-shirt wants a rum and coke.”  
  
Vanessa shot her a glare. She kept her mouth shut, however, and simply focused on getting a perfect head on the beer, no matter the time it took.  
  
Elise managed the pina colada and another draft before Vanessa had even delivered hers. Enough was enough. “Sweetheart, I know you just got here, but-”  
  
“I'm not your sweetheart.” It was cleanly and crisply enunciated, and just biting enough to make Elise feel like a pile of poop. “And the next time you call me that, you're getting this draft all over you.”  
  
The customers at the bar itself were starting to quiet down, as if they could feel the shift in the air, and Elise turned to face Vanessa with her cheeks flaming. “Excuse me?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Most people would have gone and hidden themselves in their work after a statement like that, maybe gone on to finish the rum and coke, but Vanessa turned face-to-face with Elise and tossed her hair over her shoulder. As she slowly narrowed her eyes, Elise felt her heart begin to pound with anxiety. “What's your problem?” Elise asked as softly as she could, trying to preserve the relative sanctity of the bar before any of the customers noticed the tension.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Vanessa snapped. “Seriously, are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
Elise flinched like she'd been slapped. If she was doubtful before, she wasn't anymore. She wanted nothing more than to turn and get the hell out of there, but Vanessa was blocking her path in all her five-foot-eleven glory, with spiky stilettos to match. “Vanessa-”  
  
The fiery woman took a step toward her, her face taking on a pinched and ugly look. “You little slut. You think you can get away with fucking Jeremy and I'm not gonna find out?”  
  
There it was, the kick in the stomach. Elise felt her stomach muscles contract on instinct, as if Vanessa had really done it. “What?”  
  
“I know all about it! Everything! You fucking got him drunk and seduced him and took advantage of him even though you knew he was _mine!_ What the hell's your problem?!” Vanessa was yelling now, and the customers were starting to whistle in preparation for a catfight, and all Elise could do was back up until she slammed into the counter. “Fucking your boss wasn't _good_ enough?! Yeah! I know all about that too!”  
  
“Vanessa, please-”  
  
“Fat old bitches like you can't get anywhere in the real world, so you gotta try to get through it by sucking every cock you see,” she hissed in Elise's face. “You're damn lucky I don't just rip out your hair right now.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” Elise pleaded.  
  
“You can't just say that and make it like it never happened. Oh, no, _sweetheart,_ it _happened,_ and I'm gonna get you for it. I swear to God I am. You're gonna be sorry you ever looked at him.”  
  
She couldn't take it anymore. Elise broke past her and took off running for the front door, carried on a wave of jeering and laughter. She exploded through the door and fell to her knees in the nearby patch of grass, her bare knees digging into the dirt. She panted and wheezed and tried her hardest to keep from throwing up her dinner all over the plants.  
  
The funny thing was she should have been able to cry by now. Girls didn't go through that kind of experience every day. But Elise had encountered it just often enough for her to become almost completely numb to it.  
  
Vanessa was right, of course. She had a temper, but she also had a frightening accuracy when it came to the obscure bits of gossip she picked out, and Elise knew even in the beginning that it would be only a matter of time before she got a hold of this one. Hell, she'd probably known all along. The sex had happened in December, right before Colton had come to visit her, on a particularly lonely night. She and Jeremy had been closing the bar together, a night when Peter wasn't working, and they'd started talking. Jeremy had confessed how depressed he was getting over not being able to catch Vanessa's eye, and since they couldn't drink on the job and Jeremy clearly had no one to go home to, she'd offered to take the big man out for a few drinks if they could find a place open. If not, she had a six-pack of beer at her place, and that'd do just as well.  
  
They'd ended up in her apartment, of course, sitting on her couch, drinking not only the beer but a shot each of her whiskey, and she'd listened. She'd comforted. And, when that wasn't enough, she'd gone with the old faithful treatment: she'd kissed him. And he'd been just drunk enough to lose himself in her.  
  
No wonder Vanessa left Elise with tons of shit to clean up every night. No wonder she never stocked the bar on the nights that she closed or even the days that she opened. She'd known. God, she'd known all this time, hadn't she? And she'd just bottled it up inside until it finally exploded like a volcano and sought something to destroy.  
  
Why did she keep doing this? Why did she do this every single time? How could a woman have sex with her boss, her co-workers, her friends, and not try to figure out a way to stop?  
  
Elise closed her eyes tightly and eased herself back onto one of the steps leading up to the bar. She ignored the people that exited it and simply pressed her hands to her eyes and tried to get her head on straight.  
  
The door opened again, and she heard a softly-spoken “Elise?”  
  
She glanced over her shoulder before her cheeks flushed and she looked away again. “Peter. Hey.”  
  
He quietly eased onto the step beside her. He had her purse in his hands, and he placed it at her feet.  
  
“...I take it Vanessa came and talked to you.”  
  
“She didn't have to. I heard the whole thing.”  
  
Elise sighed. “Great.”  
  
“You're apparently the star of the bar tonight. I've never heard so many guys talk about their chances of getting laid all at once.”  
  
She stiffened and shot him a glare. “Are you allowed to say stuff like that to me if you're my boss?”  
  
Peter didn't smile. He didn't even look repentant. He just shrugged. “I'm not your boss anymore.”  
  
It took a moment for that to sink it. When it did, she felt the nausea strike her all over again. “Peter-”  
  
“You have a disturbing tendency to stir trouble up. You've made at least two members of our staff very uncomfortable, maybe even more, and one of them told me that they can no longer work with you. I have to cut my losses.”  
  
“Is this because you're jealous or something?” she asked.  
  
Peter looked for a moment like he might laugh. “No, Elise. No it isn't.”  
  
“I could report you. For what happened with us. You know that.”  
  
“But you won't. Because you know that all the blame for that's resting right on your shoulders.”  
  
She looked away. She was going to be sick. She was, right here in front of him. Jesus Christ.  
  
“I wish you luck in your future business ventures,” he said as he began to stand.  
  
“Peter, what am I going to do now?”  
  
He stared at her, tilting his head to the side. “You're the Idol wannabe. You tell me.” And then he turned and went inside.  
  
She sat there for a few moments longer in complete and utter shock before she realized she had to move. She couldn't just stay here. She had to get out, and fast, before something else happened to ruin her. She grabbed her purse and held it close to her as she hurried to her car, her breaths coming fast and uncomfortably.  
  
She got in her car and she drove. Before she knew what she was doing, she was driving past her house and heading for the freeway. The wide open road was calling to her, even at one in the morning, and she took it. She sped like her life depended on it. She didn't even need to look at exit signs. She knew exactly where she was going.  
  
She drove for an hour, and she refused to let her brain travel any farther than the basics of driving: turn signal, headlights, acceleration, and brakes. Before she was ready she exited the freeway and breezed past a stop sign in her haste, and within minutes she was parking. Everything began to catch up to her then, and she tightened her hands around her steering wheel in a death grip. It felt like an eternity before she could even bring herself to put the car in park.  
  
When she climbed out of the car on shaky feet, she took a moment to get her bearings before she started off across the grass. Her heels dug into the ground every once and a while, and she fought the urge to consider exactly what that meant. She simply pressed on. She crossed the graveyard until she reached a particular gravestone, and then she stood there and stared at it.  
  
She listened. She listened hard, as if she expected him to speak, but when he didn't she heaved an enormous sigh instead. “This is your fault, you know,” she murmured. The crisp April breeze stirred around her and played with her hair in a familiar way, and it brought burning tears to her eyes. “It's all your fault. And I hate you for it.” She knew her mascara was running down her face. She knew she looked a fright. But she didn't care. He never had either, had he? “What am I going to do now? Who the hell's gonna hire a thirty-year-old waste-of-space?”  
  
The gravestone didn't answer. It stared up at her in implicating silence.  
  
“Don't look at me like that. I had things all figured out until you came along. And look at what you turned me into, you son of a bitch,” she whispered harshly.  
  
For a moment she felt completely weak. She wanted to kneel down and touch her cheek to the soft grass over his hard, well-formed grave, and let a few tears sink into the earth. But that was what he would have wanted. He would have wanted her to bring her brokenness to him so he could hold her and fix it. And that thought, beyond anything, made her furious, because she didn't deserve any of that, goddamn it.  
  
She'd never spat on anyone before, but the saliva landed right on his first name, where it could drip down what she could pretend was his face. And then she turned and went all the way back home.


	11. Chapter 11

Hannah was mad at him.  
  
It wasn't a big surprise, really. He probably even deserved it. But, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out exactly what he'd done wrong.  
  
It was something he considered all the way down to the beach, the ridiculously long drive that it was. He spent it with his iPod and his thoughts, barely focusing on either the music or the road. He had to trust his instincts to get him there, with a little help from the occasional chirp of his GPS, because this was something he honestly wanted to figure out, especially before he was suddenly surrounded with six or seven of his favorite people in the entire world.  
  
Ever since that time at the bar with Betsy in February, he'd been spending a hell of a lot of time with her, both in the studio and out. They'd done a healthy amount of damage to the long list of songs he needed to record and perfect for his sophomore album, and when he'd been feeling a little frustrated with a certain chord or lyric, she was always available to pop by with whatever she and her girlfriend had baked recently (they were flour-nymphos or something, he swore, if only because it wasn't healthy to bake that much unless it turned you on) and to offer a helpful critique. They got drinks every once and a while and whined about how Jacob was the Manager From Hell and how fleeting fame was and how to maintain integrity in the music business, and he was beginning to consider it one of his most valuable friendships.  
  
Now, his momma had raised him up right, and when cell phones started popping up she'd trained him to remember that it was rude to answer the phone when you were spending time with somebody. He applied that rule even to Hannah, and she had an unerring instinct that made her call almost every time he was hanging out with Betsy. He always clicked the call to 'silent' and made sure to text Hannah after everything was over, letting her know who he'd been with, and he thought that particularly nice of him. _Polite,_ even.  
  
Apparently she didn't think the same.  
  
Well, he could just go and ignore her calls and texts and then not even give her a reason for it, and then how would she like that? She wouldn't, would she?  
  
It was like she wanted him to answer her the exact second she contacted him every single time. That was the only thing he could think of that she might be ticked off about. But what was he supposed to do about that? If he went along with it, he'd insult whoever he was hanging out with, and that was something he didn't want to do either. He paid Hannah the same courtesy, of course, when he was with her, so why could she understand this? It was just good manners. That's all.  
  
His phone buzzed with a text, and he risked a quick look at it. _'Call me when you get there,'_ it said, and he felt familiar annoyance stir up in the pit of his belly. “Jesus, Hannah,” he muttered. When he got there, he'd be drowning in hugs and shouts and memories and pure insanity. Hell, he probably wouldn't have a second to call anybody until that night, after everybody all started dropping off to sleep. But sure, whatever, he'd do what it took to keep her happy, and that was that.  
  
His iPod began playing Jess's latest single, and he exhaled slowly and let the R&B sink into his tense muscles. That's right. He was on vacation. He was going to see these kids, and he was going to enjoy it.  
  
From what he could tell, it was gonna be him, Erika, Colton, Skylar, Elise, Hollie, and Heejun. Josh was off on his charity thing in Africa, Jess was preparing for her summer tour, and DeAndre was trailing after her like a puppy. It was cute. It made him smile. But still, he was just gonna be distracting her, especially when he really needed to be working on his first album, since Erika had mentioned that Jess said he'd finally gotten picked up by a label. But he could still sympathize with the kid. He knew how it was to be knocked sideways by a girl, to be so overwhelmed by attraction and fascination that you didn't know how to breathe, much less wanna be apart from her for a day.  
  
He remembered feeling that for Hannah. He still remembered the first time he'd ever seen her. And, truth be told, he missed feeling that immediate buzz when he was around her. He wished he knew how to get it back. He let that thought carry him for a few more hours down the road.  
  
The sun was setting when the GPS announced that he would arrive at his destination on the left in zero-point-four miles, and Phil felt every inch of him buzz with excitement. About time. He wish he could've just put wings on his damn car and _flown_ all the way here, if it had been any faster. As he pulled into the gravely parking lot right on the edge of the sand, tucked in between a Jeep and an old Honda that he recognized very well, he just about burst out of the car.  
  
He could already hear the loud talking, the laughing, even the picking of a guitar somewhere around the area of the beach house. He didn't even take much time to consider the two-story building with the wraparound porch. He'd seen more splendid things back home these days. They were common there, common enough for it to fall to the background. He left his suitcase in his car and grabbed his keys and jogged up the stairs two at a time, the voices drawing him around to the back.  
  
There they were, sitting around a bonfire. God, they looked good. He stood at the top of the stairs and simply stared at them with a grin that nearly split his face. And then he heard it: “PHIIIIIIIIL!” And a broad figure jumped up and started running toward him, arms spread open, in slow motion like he was on Baywatch or something.  
  
Of course. “Heejun!” And Phil jumped down the stairs, landed firmly on the sand, and started running in the exact same way.  
  
It took a long few seconds for them to finally reach each other, and everybody else started cheering as they came to their feet and found places for marshmallow-roasting sticks and guitars before they started coming toward him as well. At the last second Heejun tackled him like a linebacker, and Phil let out an “OOF!” as the Asian man landed squarely on top of him. “Jesus, Heejun, let me bre- OH GOD!” Hollie was next, diving on top of Heejun like this was a pile-up, and she started squealing when Skylar added her own weight with a loud laugh. Erika stood nearby, surveying the scene, and waving away his pleas for help.  
  
He managed to twist his neck enough to see Elise and Colton bringing up the rear, walking slowly with dual smiles on their faces, and he lurched an arm out to them. “C'mon, guys, give me a hand here!”  
  
A mischievous smirk crossed Colton's lips, and he took the chance to jump on top of the pile as well, though he was such a feather Phil couldn't even feel a thing. “How's that?” Colton chirped, and Phil collapsed completely flat with an exhausted cry.  
  
Elise and Erika stood side-by-side like the old fogies they were, and after laughing for a few moments Erika took charge. “All right, all right, let the man breathe, Jesus!” And she gave the pile a shove, so they came tumbling over each other with screams and shouts and left just a marginally-crushed Heejun laying across Phil, forming an X with their bodies. “You act like we haven't seen the kid in a year or two,” Erika added dryly with a grin as she held out a hand for Phil to pick himself up.  
  
“Speak for yourself,” Heejun said. He waited for Phil to get to his feet before he clung to his calves like a child. “ _I_ went to every single one of his concerts. I even snuck into his dressing room and stole a pair of his boxers! I'm your biggest fan, Mr. Phillips!”  
  
“Oh God, I knew I should've brought security,” he drawled. But he couldn't stop smiling. He dragged Heejun to his feet and grabbed him in a bear hug. “How you been, man?”  
  
“Damn good and getting better,” he replied. He crushed all the air out of Phil's lungs, even picked him up and swung him around in the air, before setting him down again. “Now, where'd my glasses get thrown?”  
  
“Oh God, nobody move!” Skylar shouted. A search ensued, and when they were located, miraculously unbroken, there was a great celebration.  
  
Skylar and Hollie each grabbed a quick hug from Phil before remembering that the state of their marshmallows was in jeopardy, and they ran back to the fire like they themselves were going up in flames. Erika tossed an arm around his shoulders and gave him a quiet “Good to see you, Phil,” before she headed back the same way, grabbing Heejun's arm on the way and dragging him with her.  
  
It was a weird thing to see, the way they seemed to be trying to leave him alone with Colton even though he'd just gotten here, but he wondered if there was a specific reason for it. He knew, of course. Everybody here knew about Schyler. And, as far as he knew, he had the closest bromance with Colton out of the entire crew. Maybe they were trying to give him a chance to help him up, so to speak.  
  
Damn, that was a lot of pressure.  
  
Colton came toward him with a smile and as tight a hug as his skinny little noodle arms could manage. “Hey there.”  
  
“What's up, man?” Phil asked. He held him a little tighter for a moment, feeling a part of him swell with the pressure to make everything right, before he let him go. He kept a hand on his shoulder even after they broke apart, and he took a long moment to study Colton's face, to see what he could. The smile was real. But his eyes were dead. Phil felt something sink inside of him. “I didn't even know if you were gonna be here.”  
  
Colton shrugged. “Sister's orders.”  
  
He nodded. He had a sister. He knew how persuasive they could be. “She started her chemo yet?”  
  
Colton sighed. “No. They, uh...they're still pretty inconclusive about her lymph nodes, and...well, anyway, it'll start soon. Just means I'll get to be there when it happens.” And, just as quickly as he spoke, he patted Phil's arm and stepped out of his hold. “C'mon, come and sit. I'll get you a marshmallow started.” And then he walked away, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, like he was freezing cold even on a warm May night.  
  
Phil followed him with his eyes before he became aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. He let his gaze wander over to Elise only to find that she was staring after the baby of their trio with a frown very similar to his own. She took a few steps toward Phil and sighed softly. “He's been this way ever since December.”  
  
“Yeah?” Phil managed. “Like how?”  
  
She shrugged. She was wearing an oversized sweater, and one of the shoulders drooped down her arm and exposed a lacy bra strap and a wide expanse of tanned skin. “Avoiding the subject. Running from it.” She shook her head. “I don't know if it's real to him yet.” As she reached up and collected a handful of her thick, curly hair and dragged it over her covered shoulder, she looked toward him, and Phil felt a familiar buzz. It was the buzz he'd felt ever since he'd first spent a moment alone with her in a practice room.  
  
He still didn't feel comfortable with it. And he could tell she didn't either.  
  
He hadn't planned it like this, ending the line of greetings with being alone with Elise. If he had his way, he would've gotten her out of the way first, when there was still a healthy amount of insanity surrounding them that could've distracted him from the smoothness of her skin and the smell of her hair. But now there wasn't. It was just them, and he didn't really know what to do with it.  
  
She looked away quickly, and he followed her eyes to see Erika studying them from the fire. He instinctively took a step away from Elise, and Erika whirled around to stare at the fire again. “When do you think it's gonna hit him?” he asked.  
  
“What?” She looked at him with wide eyes.  
  
“The cancer. Schyler having it.”  
  
“Oh.” Elise bit her bottom lip, and Phil forced himself to look down at his flannel sleeve. He began picking at it under the pretense of rolling it a little further up his forearm. “I don't know. With our luck, probably here. He's surrounded by friends, you know? People that love him. We're not gonna let him just keep living in a delusion or something when he's gotta go home and take care of her.”  
  
“Especially if it's spread as far as they think it has,” he murmured.  
  
“Especially then.”  
  
He looked up at her again and met her eyes, and for a moment the two of them simply stared at each other. And then he smiled. “Why do I get the feeling it's gonna come down to us?”  
  
She chuckled and looked down at the sand, kicking a small clump with her bare foot. Her red toenails gleamed in the distant firelight like stones hiding in the sand. “'Cuz I can't see Heejun having a serious conversation with him about it?”  
  
“Hollie?”  
  
“She'd be too afraid to push him.”  
  
“Skylar?”  
  
Elise winced. “The name...”  
  
“Erika?”  
  
Elise shrugged. “She'd be good at it. But I don't think he trusts her. He trusts us.”  
  
Phil looked back at the group around the fire. “Yeah. Yeah he does.”  
  
Heejun caught his eye and waved. “Dude, c'mon! I'm gonna eat your marshmallow!”  
  
Phil cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted his reply. “You better not!” And then he chuckled and looked back at Elise. “You ready?”  
  
She smiled. “Yeah. Let's go.”  
  
They went.


	12. Chapter 12

Elise and Erika were buying beer, Heejun and Phil were buying food, and Colton was stuck in the living room of the beach house by himself. He liked this room, he decided. It was doubtlessly the centerpiece of the entire house, with enormous picture windows facing the ocean and soft, comfortable furniture, not to mention the fireplace in the corner for any Winter nights that one might spend here. He found himself rather thankful for it. It was warmer than he was used to down here in Florida in May, but the nights could still get pretty chilly, and there was something calming about a fireplace as compared to a loud, clanking heating unit.  
  
He let his eyes drift out to study the waves drifting in across the sand. It was beautiful out there. His family would love it. Especially Schyler.  
  
He heaved a sigh and let his eyes grow unfocused, fuzzing at the edges. Every time he thought of her he only succeeded in remembering that there was absolutely no reason for him to be here. He was far from where he was supposed to be. And yet, under the guilt, there was a small seed of relief that couldn't be ignored.  
  
Relief. He was an evil man for feeling it, for being almost _glad_ to be far away from the stress of cancer and life, but that didn't mean he could destroy it. It was there, whether he liked it or not, and he found himself wondering if maybe it wasn't the truest thing about him right now. It was what was at the base of him, wasn't it? It was what was flourishing there even when he knew it was wrong.  
  
It wasn't that he was glad to be over here, where he couldn't help his family get through everything. That wasn't it at all. No, it was the fact that he was out of their hair, where he couldn't do any more damage. It had been months since he'd first had the thought, and he still couldn't get it out of his head that he was the one responsible for shortening Schyler's life, or, at the very least, her experiences. People didn't know her name. But they knew his. And all because he stole her audition. Her opportunity to unleash herself on the world, to let them all hear her voice. She'd gone too far on Idol. She couldn't audition again, according to the rules. And that meant she was left behind while her brother stood in the spotlight.  
  
He ate the guilt. He ate it up like a buffet. And he relished it. It was what he deserved.  
  
He heard footsteps in the hallway and turned his head with a ready smile. It was Skylar and Hollie, freshly showered after their recent excursion in the ocean and already tucked into PJs. “I didn't know it was that late,” he teased.  
  
Skylar stuck her tongue out at him, and Hollie giggled. “Might as well be,” the blonde said. “I'm exhausted.”  
  
“You should be. You were swimming like an Olympic-class athlete out there,” he said.  
  
The girls padded into the living room, Skylar taking the couch and Hollie curling up on the pile of sofa pillows everyone had created the night before. It fit her petite figure perfectly. She pulled a brush out of the pocket of her fuzzy red pajama pants and began to brush her hair, even though it was already perfectly straight.  
  
They were quiet, all three of them, which didn't surprise him. Everyone in this house loved everybody else, but there was a sense of having to get used to each other again, to sink into each other like they had on tour, that was pervasive in the air. Colton figured he might as well get the ball rolling. “How's school for you two?”  
  
“Oh, Jesus,” Skylar drawled, thudding her head back against the back of the couch. “Do we _have_ to talk about that?”  
  
He laughed despite himself. “Why? What's wrong with college?”  
  
“ _Everything!_ ” She covered her face with both hands and groaned.  
  
“Skylar's still doubting her decision,” Hollie said helpfully, tilting her head to allow her brush better access.  
  
Colton knew the story. Skylar had taken a year off of college while slumming around Nashville, trying to hit it big, but when she hadn't been satisfied with her offers she'd decided she'd better get a back-up plan while she still had a chance. Lipscomb University hadn't known what hit it when she whirled onto the scene. “Geez, you've been there, what, a year? And you're already hating it?”  
  
Skylar dropped her arms in her lap and eyed Colton. “School and I don't get along. Never have. And I've gotta take all these stupid classes that don't even go with my major. It's stupid.”  
  
“It's college,” Hollie added.  
  
“Yeah, but you're gonna be a junior now! You're, like, in the meat of your education! You probably don't even remember what it's like to be a freshman!”  
  
“Oh, I remember,” she said with a laugh. “I remember everybody staring at me in class and trying to be my friend.” Hollie shuddered. “I like friends as much as the next person, but with a major like sociology you've really got to focus on your studies. It's exhausting! I barely had time for study groups, much less going out every weekend with the Idol fanatics.”  
  
“You're both gonna make me feel like an underachiever,” Colton murmured, a small smile peeking across his lips.  
  
“Oh, no, I didn't mean to!” Hollie leaned forward in earnest, and Colton's smile bloomed into a full-fledged grin. “I'm so sorry!”  
  
“Calm down, Holls.” Colton leaned forward and patted her on the head, and she jerked away from his hand with a little pout. “Stress makes your hair fall out.”  
  
There was an awkward lull in the conversation, and it took Colton a moment to figure out what he'd said. The fact that a little teasing comment about hair falling out could lead the two of them to think about Schyler was mind-blowing. He found himself wondering just how closely everybody here was watching him.  
  
Skylar cleared her throat first. “It's not too late, Colton. You can still come down and enroll at Lipscomb with me.”  
  
He smiled. “Nice try, but if I was gonna go anywhere, it'd be somewhere out-of-state. I've been in Tennessee way too much my entire life.”  
  
“With so many colleges in Nashville alone, it's hard to imagine having to go anywhere else to find something better,” Hollie said softly.  
  
“The Athens of the South,” Colton drawled. “Nice place. It really is. Just don't think I wanna get stuck there. I wanna see the world, you know? Or at least the country.”  
  
“Well, you've made it to Florida.” Skylar flashed him a thumbs-up. “That's always a good start.”  
  
“Always,” he said with a chuckle.  
  
“You need to come visit me next,” Hollie piped up. “Are you gonna start making the rounds again after...”  
  
“...after...?”  
  
She winced. She was a sweet girl. It was her instinct to try to find an appropriate way to bring up cancer, as if it wasn't the biggest conversation-killing mechanism known to man. Colton waited and let her sweat it out for a few moments longer before he cleared his throat. “I haven't been making plans yet. Schyler's kind of at the top of the priority list.”  
  
Hollie nodded, a deep sadness in her eyes that made him both respect her and feel annoyed at her at the same time. There was a naivety about her that shouldn't exist in a twenty-year-old woman. He felt himself curving away from her, facing the window a little more decidedly, and the conversation sank into silence again.  
  
When the door clicked open a moment later, it couldn't have come any sooner. “Well, isn't this a cozy scene?” Erika chirped, and all three of them turned to see her. “You're precious.” Elise came up behind her and kicked the door shut, her arms full of beer and various other bottles of alcohol that Colton didn't recognize, but she didn't say a word. She simply smiled and ducked into the kitchen.  
  
Skylar immediately jumped to her feet. “Hey, what'd ya'll get?” she called, hopping over the sofa cushion pile and pausing only a second to grab Hollie's hand. “C'mon, silly!”  
  
“All right, all right!” Hollie rolled her eyes at Colton, and he chuckled and shook his head. For all her innocence and naivety, no matter how frustrating it could be to him at his worst moments, she was still someone he was incredibly fond of, and not _just_ for her accent. He followed her with his eyes for a moment before he leaned forward and sighed.  
  
He turned his attention back to the ocean waves, highlighted as they were by the setting sun, and studied it in silence for a few moments. It was a pair of tanned arms drooping over the back of the couch, right beside the corner of his eye, that brought him out of his thoughts. “She likes you, you know.”  
  
He blinked and looked up at Elise. “What?”  
  
“Hollie.” She smiled, dropping her voice to a quiet murmur that he could barely hear over the three females chatting about alcohol in the kitchen. “She likes you a lot.”  
  
Colton's eyes widened, and he snapped his gaze down to the carpet. “I, uh...I think you're seeing something that doesn't exist,” he said with a shake of his head. “She hasn't even...”  
  
Elise dropped her head and grinned, curling her hands around her elbows. “You boys are as dumb as bricks sometimes.”  
  
He felt a little rankled by that, but pleasantly so. He'd forgotten what it was like to be teased. He cocked an eyebrow and turned on the couch to look at her, curling one leg across the cushion and letting the other dangle to touch the floor. “Is that so?”  
  
She glanced toward him, her grin turning rather smug. “She and Skylar came in me and Erika's room last night and had a little chat with us.”  
  
“About me?”  
  
“About the, uh, proper way to get a boy to notice you.” She turned her head to look him full in the eye. “Emphasis on Hollie and you.”  
  
“You're making that up. Next you're gonna tell me Skylar wanted help with attracting Heejun.”  
  
“Oh, no, that'd be too easy,” Elise said, waving the words away. “No, _you_ were the challenge.”  
  
He felt a little embarrassed, talking about himself like this, but also curious. Didn't everybody want to be a fly on the wall sometimes when people were talking about them? He glanced to the kitchen just to make sure the three of them were still occupied before leaning toward Elise. “And how am I challenging?”  
  
She smirked, wrinkling her nose in mirth. “You're you. What's more complicated than that?” And then she chuckled. “Hollie's a cute girl. She's a strong Christian. She's funny and smart and talented. So it's not like I could just tell her something to change if she really wanted to be with you, you know? She already seems like your type.”  
  
“She's young, though.”  
  
“Pssh.” Elise rolled her eyes. “She's twenty. You're twenty-three. That's not exactly a huge difference. You could've dated in high school without people looking at you weird.”  
  
“But it's still a difference. Especially with her.” He scooted closer, and Elise rested her chin on her forearms to listen better. “She's so innocent. It'd be like dating a fourteen-year-old. I'd be scared I'd...I don't know, corrupt her or something.”  
  
Elise furrowed her brow. “But you're _you._ You're pretty much perfect already.”  
  
A perfect man who was secretly glad to put a little distance between himself and the cancer. A perfect man who hadn't talked to God in months. That didn't exactly make a lot of sense in his head. “Crazy talk, Elise. Trust me.”  
  
“So there's no hope for her?” she asked, though with a charming little smile that he'd come to love about her, one that told him she wasn't judging him no matter what his response was.  
  
And so he told the truth. “Not really, no. Not for another ten years, probably.”  
  
She chuckled. “Something tells me she'd be willing to wait that long.”  
  
“She'd be crazy if she did,” he murmured, glancing to the side.  
  
Elise was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?” When he didn't respond right away she came around the couch and plopped down on the cushion next to him. “Call me crazy, but that kind of sounds like you're saying you're not good enough to wait for.”  
  
He didn't want to look at her. If he did, he'd have to tell her everything he'd been struggling with, and he wasn't ready for that, not yet. He wasn't ready to be loved unconditionally like he was betting Elise would do, or, worse, to think he would be and then be unpleasantly surprised.  
  
She reached out and touched his wrist, a bare whisper of her fingers against his skin that both reassured him and made his skin come to life. It caught him by surprise, and he quickly looked down at her hand. “You're...a _wonderful_ man, Colton. The best man I've ever met. And I-”  
  
The door swung open suddenly, kicked so hard Colton was surprised it didn't fly off the hinges, and two piles of grocery bags, each with a pair of legs, suddenly came waltzing into the living room. “We have supplies!” one of the piles declared in Heejun's voice.  
  
“Hurray!” Erika called from the kitchen, and she and the girls came out to usher the grocery fairies into the kitchen.  
  
The conversation was, for the moment, shattered, and Colton was beyond grateful for that. He shot Elise a quick look before he came to his feet and made his way into the kitchen to help put things up. All he saw as he disappeared around the corner was a slightly dejected-looking Elise, her eyes staring down at the ground. He decided he'd rather not think about that at the moment.


	13. Chapter 13

It was about midnight the following night when Elise slipped out of her bedroom for a glass of water. Erika was curled up with the latest Danielle Steel book, so enraptured that Elise thought a bomb could probably go off in Skylar and Hollie's bedroom without rousing her, and Elise gave a little smile and shake of her head as she went.  
  
It was nice having someone else in the room now, a roommate of sorts. She'd missed it. She was sleeping all the way through the night now without interruption, for example, and that was only _one_ of the perks. She had someone to talk to whenever she felt like it, someone whose clothes she could borrow, everything. It was a shame that it was only a temporary thing, actually, because she was realizing she could really get used to this all over again.  
  
She passed the bedrooms as she walked. Skylar and Hollie's door was shut, but she heard them whispering. There wasn't any giggling, not tonight. Elise had a feeling that they were discussing Colton and his dissatisfactory responses to Hollie's attempted flirting, how he might end up being a lost cause, but what twenty-year-old girl had ever taken that as an answer, especially when she'd encountered as theoretically a perfect guy as Colton was?  
  
Colton's bedroom came next, in fact. He'd won the luck of the draw, in a way, since he was the only one that got a bedroom to himself. He was the early sleeper, if Elise remembered correctly, so maybe it was more for everybody else's benefit rather than his, since at nine o' clock he'd padded through the living room in his pajama pants and wife beater, already a little bleary-eyed, to grab his cell phone, before going straight back to his bedroom. She had a feeling that he'd been sleeping ever since. He'd be up at five in the morning making coffee and breakfast, as usual.  
  
Heejun and Phil's bedroom door was open, and she glanced inside as she passed. And then she paused. Something wasn't right.  
  
They were talking softly, but, for once, Heejun's face was completely serious. Phil wasn't talking at all. He was staring at his phone unseeingly, fingers squeezing around it reflexively. Heejun glanced up and saw Elise in the doorway and stopped talking, simply staring.  
  
“...am I interrupting?” she asked, already taking a step back to leave.  
  
“No,” Phil said quickly. He didn't look up at her. Simply kept looking at his phone. “No, you...”  
  
Heejun let the silence stretch out for a minute before he cleared his throat. “Hannah...just broke up with Phil. Over the phone.”  
  
A swell of sympathy grew in her chest, and she looked at Phil with a desperate need to protect him. “Oh no...”  
  
“Yeah.” Phil snorted out a rather bitter chuckle. “Yeah, she...I don't know.” And he sighed, finally looking up and out their window. “I don't...know what to do.”  
  
She couldn't stop herself. She came into the room and immediately sat at his feet, right there on the floor, and looked up at him. He didn't look back. She felt through the tension and the ache in the air to see what the best thing to say would be. “What happened?”  
  
He shrugged. “I screwed up. Big surprise.”  
  
Everything in her screamed for her to reach up and take his hand, touch his knee, something, anything, but she knotted her hands together in her lap. “What did you do?”  
  
At first, he didn't reply, and Elise silently remembered their one night together, when they'd fit together more perfectly than a puzzle. Had he gone off and done something like that again? She felt sort of ashamed to think it, but she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he had. If he could do it once, even if he _had_ been a little drunk at the time, he could do it again. “I just...haven't been taking care of her like I should have.”  
  
She tilted her head to the side. “Like what?” she asked. If he was talking, he was working through problems. She knew him well enough to know that.  
  
He shrugged again. “Not calling her. Ignoring her texts if I was busy, always thinking I'd get back to her later, that sort of stuff.” He wrinkled his brow. “She said...I'm not pursuing her right. I think that's how she put it. Like she was a doe and I was a hunter, you know? I wasn't doing what I was supposed to.”  
  
He sounded so confused as he said it that Elise legitimately felt her heart break for him. She had a feeling she knew what Hannah was referring to, but the fact that Phil so obviously didn't understand it was oddly tragic. “You stopped romancing her,” she offered.  
  
Phil finally looked at her, frowning, his remarkable eyes glistening with a strange bit of wetness that she knew he wouldn't let fall. He didn't reply.  
  
“Long-distance relationships suck,” she said softly. “They take...a lot of work. And sometimes people decide they're not really worth all the effort, you know? And it's just easier...to step away.”  
  
He exhaled sharply. “I've been with her for five years.”  
  
“And sometimes it takes time to realize that things just...aren't going to work out. You know?”  
  
He looked unseeingly down at his phone and ran his thumb over the screen. It lit up. “So what do I do?”  
  
Elise tilted her head to the side. “Do you still wanna be with her?”  
  
He shook his head. “I really don't know. She sure doesn't wanna be with me.”  
  
“I think she does,” Elise murmured. “But _she_ knows what she wants. And it sounds like she wants a little more attention than you've been giving her.” She paused for a few seconds, trying to formulate her thoughts. “I think you need some time to get your head on straight. Figure out what _you_ want. If what you want is Hannah...then you get prepared to eat shit for a little while, you know? You say to yourself that you'll do anything to get her back, and so you do. You work patiently to show her that you're still in this. But if you realize that what the two of you had is kind of cold and stale and you really don't want it back...then you let it go. And you cope with the pain. And you move on to different shores.”  
  
He didn't acknowledge her words at all for the longest time, and both Elise and Heejun sat there silently, looking up at him. When he finally spoke, it was after a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I need to think.”  
  
Heejun came to his feet. “You want a beer, man?”  
  
He nodded. “Just one, that's all for tonight.”  
  
“All right.” Heejun patted Phil's shoulder firmly before giving it a tight squeeze. He looked at Elise. “You want anything?”  
  
She shook her head, but got up reflexively anyway. She had a feeling that her time of usefulness was coming to a close here. A little bromance would do Phil some good. “No, I should get back to bed. But thanks for offering.”  
  
He gave her a little smile and came forward, giving her a quick hug. Just before he pulled back, he whispered near her ear, “Thank you. He needed you.” And then he disappeared to make the long journey to the kitchen.  
  
Elise stood there, rubbing her arms, feeling warm pleasure course through her. He'd needed her. She did something useful. She never got tired of that feeling. She looked down at Phil, who was staring at his phone for a few seconds more before setting it aside, face-down on his end table. When he didn't speak again, Elise sank down to sit beside him on the bed. “Come here.” Phil leaned over without hesitation and wrapped his arms around her, and she instinctively directed his head to rest in the hollow of her neck before hugging him tightly. “It's gonna be okay. Okay? We're here to help you get through this. You got a whole week and a half left with us.”  
  
“Going back home's gonna suck,” he murmured.  
  
Her instincts told her to press a kiss to his forehead, to smooth his hair, something, but she restrained them, no matter how good he smelled or how warm he was against her. “I know. But you'll cross that bridge when you come to it.”  
  
They sat there in silence for a few long seconds before Elise felt her skin begin to tingle. She wasn't surprised. She never was. She and Phil had a disturbing physical chemistry that had always affected her, made her a little anxious around him, made her want to touch him all over and never let go. But she'd gotten better over the show and the tour at repressing the urge. She could treat him just like an ordinary human being, no matter what their history was, no matter how intoxicating it could be to be around him. He was just a guy.  
  
He was just a guy that was breathing warmly against her neck.  
  
She curled her fingers to grab tiny handfuls of his shirt without thinking, her breath catching quietly in her throat. This was dangerous. She knew that she was supposed to get up and out of the damn room, but to felt too good to be close to him like this, and...and...  
  
Phil's arms became almost crushing around her as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her skin. Elise gasped and pulled him closer, felt every inch of her skin become alive as he drew a quick line of kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. He wasn't going to stop, was he? He was going to keep going until he was drowning in her.  
  
This was what she did. She used herself to take the sadness and the tragedy away for a little while. She used her body as a distraction for the men she cared about. But did she ever really care about them? Or did she just pretend to, so she felt less like a whore?  
  
This was different, this right here. As Phil tugged at the sash closing her bathrobe, she registered just how completely different she felt with him in every way. This was raw. This was real. This was her body responding instinctively to his, curling a little closer, offering him her skin to taste, giving him everything not out of an obligation to make him feel better, but out of a desire to feel him, _all_ of him, bleeding together with all of her.  
  
And that was as scary as hell.  
  
“No,” she suddenly whispered, shoving him away from her. She scooted to the far end of the bed and grabbed her bathrobe, jerking it tightly around her like a suit of armor.  
  
Phil hesitated on his side of the bed, panting, his eyelids heavy and his teeth almost bared like a predator's. “...I'm not drunk this time, Elise,” he murmured in a gravelly voice, every word a sensual caress against her brain.  
  
She shivered and licked her lips, shaking her head. “No, Phil, you're drunk on grief. And I can't let you do that.” Her skin was still alive, keening for the feeling of his hands and lips all over it, and she curved her body away from him as if to calm it. “You'll regret it. You know you will. Even if Heejun got lost and stayed away all night and didn't walk in on us, you'd wake up tomorrow and hate yourself.”  
  
He stared at her, his chest still lifting and descending with slow, heavy breaths, but he didn't speak. He kept his eyes on hers, focusing, thinking. She didn't know if she wanted to hear what he was going to say.  
  
“Get your head on straight,” she whispered. “Figure yourself out. And if you still want me, you come and find me.” She shook her head again. “But I'm not just gonna let you treat me like a rebound to hide from what you really want.” And then she stood up and fled, not once looking back.  
  
She didn't sleep at all for the rest of the night.


	14. Chapter 14

It was a weird feeling, being happy when you should be sad. Phil thought about it all the next day. He sat on the sand and soaked up indeterminate amounts of sun with Heejun and Skylar. He sipped beer with Erika out on the back porch. He played Apples 2 Apples with Skylar and Hollie and Colton and laughed for hours. But never once did he get depressed. He was too busy, he decided, too distracted. But it still didn't make sense. He'd been with the woman for almost a fifth of his life. That meant something. That meant it should be a national day of mourning.  
  
So technically he was either a bastard that didn't have a heart, or he was an idiot who didn't have a clue what he lost. Not a good place to be either way.  
  
Not only that, but he was a desperate son of a bitch. Through the entire day when he floated around letting himself be distracted, he looked for a head of blonde curls and listened for a rough voice. He waited for...  
  
...for what?  
  
To apologize? No, that would imply that he was sorry that something had almost happened, and he wasn't. Have no regrets. Don't live in the past. Instead he simply wished he'd had better timing.  
  
To continue what she'd stopped? No. She'd still be a rebound right now, and she'd made it clear that she wasn't into that. She'd just stop it all over again and leave them both sweaty and anxious.  
  
No, he really didn't know what he was waiting for right now. He just wanted to _see_ her. He wanted to be around her, to soak her up.  
  
When he really thought about that, he realized it was kind of scary to be in that headspace. It was broadcasting a dependence that he didn't know he had. He'd rather be depending on somebody else, _anybody_ but her. And yet it wasn't something he could ignore and pretend didn't exist.  
  
“Where's Elise?” he asked Colton in a moment of weakness. “I haven't seen her all day.”  
  
He glanced up. “I don't know. I think Erika said she's sick. Maybe she hasn't gotten out of bed all day.”  
  
 _She's not sick,_ he thought. _Not a bit._  
  
Colton turned on the couch to look him in the eye. “So. You didn't tell me about Hannah.”  
  
Phil flinched. He was torn between feeling guilty or feeling angry that Colton would be so presumptuous. He went with the latter. “I don't tell you everything.”  
  
Colton visibly withdrew. He actually leaned back a few inches. “Oh.” There was a dull moment of silence. “Right. Sorry. Guess I forgot that.”  
  
 _There_ was the guilt. Whenever he chose anger, the guilt was never far behind. He watched Colton hang his head, the tilt of his long and slender neck irrevocably sad, and he sighed. “I'm sorry.”  
  
“You know, I just want to know one thing,” Colton murmured, and Phil immediately lifted his eyebrows. There was a dangerous tone to his voice that Phil didn't recognize. “What is it about Elise?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What is it that she can give you that I can't? Why is it that you'll go to her before _me?_ I mean, I get Heejun. I get why I'm behind him. But I was close to you before you even really started _talking_ to Elise, and I just...” He dropped off with a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. “Forget it.”  
  
“Colt-”  
  
“No, just forget it. I'm being a girl and it's stupid and I'm sorry.”  
  
Phil didn't even know what he was supposed to say to that. He'd never heard something like this out of Colton. He was always so put together, so confident, and Phil had always assumed it was because of his faith, because he had it all figured out. He flicked his eyes to the crucifix hanging from Colton's neck.  
  
Something clicked. It wasn't perfect yet, no, there were some kinks to work out until he really got it...but he could still feel it, the fact that something was off. And that made him frown. “...you know, I don't think you tell me everything either.”  
  
Colton met his eyes.  
  
“You're...hiding something from _all_ of us.”  
  
He reached up and grabbed the long end of the crucifix, as if he could read Phil's mind. “And I think you're just being paranoid.”  
  
“Nice,” Phil said dryly. He wandered over to the nearest chair and heaved a sigh as he sat. “So what do you want?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You want the whole story, or the Reader's Digest version?”  
  
Colton looked away. “You don't need to tell me anything.”  
  
“I'm telling you whether you like it or not.” Phil narrowed his eyes, mostly in jest, before he crossed his legs and settled in for quite a stay. “And just for that, you're getting the long version.”  
  
He could tell that Colton was trying not to smile, but he wasn't succeeding. “All right, all right...I guess I'll put up with it.”  
  
“Good.” He tilted his head back and exhaled slowly. “...so I, uh...told Hannah I'd call her when I got here, right? But I just got so super distracted. All ya'll are here, y'know, and I was just so excited to see everybody. I missed ya'll.”  
  
Colton nodded, but he didn't speak.  
  
“So I...didn't call her.”  
  
“...at all?”  
  
Phil shook his head, and Colton winced. “I know, I know. So last night she calls me and I realize what I did, so I answered and got ready to start groveling. But she wasn't hearing that. She was just plain mad.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. This was when the distracting ended. This was when he started getting that sharp ache in his chest that reminded him his future had probably changed forever, and all because he was a stupid bastard. “She...didn't want to listen. She told me I always did this, that I just...dragged her along and made empty promises and never went through with anything I said I would. And then she mentioned _Betsy..._ ”  
  
“Who's Betsy?”  
  
Phil peeked at Colton through one eye, saw him tilting his head to the side. “Betsy, she's my, uh...my recording engineer. She and I've been spending a lot of time together with the album, and Hannah thought...well, she thought...”  
  
“Was she _right?_ ” Colton pressed.  
  
“Naw.” Phil chuckled despite himself. “No, Betsy's not into me. Even if she was, she's got a girl.”  
  
Colton's eyes widened. “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well, did you... _tell_ Hannah that?”  
  
He sighed. “I tried. Dammit, Colton, I tried to explain everything, say I was sorry, say I wouldn't do it again, all that, but she just...she said she was done.” He felt a little choked when he said that, and he cleared his throat to try not to show it. “Said if I was really sorry I'd find a way to prove it.”  
  
They were quiet for a time, and Phil stared out to the ocean waves. Skylar and Hollie were swimming, the little mermaids they were, and Erika and Heejun were playing lifeguard. It was a weird pairing any day of the week, but looking at them just made him think of him and Elise, and he felt a little bitter when he considered that.  
  
“...there's more, of course.”  
  
Colton tilted his head to the side.  
  
“There's always more. There's...” He leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands. “I kind of...I may have come on to Elise last night.”  
  
“What?!” Colton snapped, suddenly on the edge of the couch.  
  
“I-I mean, she was _there,_ and she was _gorgeous,_ and, Colt, let's be honest, I've always...kind of...wondered if...”  
  
“Your girlfriend breaks up with you, and you just go and try to hook up with another girl? Seriously, Phil?”  
  
“It was a mistake, okay, I know. I get it. I'm not _that_ dumb.” He gritted his teeth for a moment before dropping his hands and staring at him. “So now I'm just confused.”  
  
He could see a strange expression on Colton's face, as if he was fighting with something. And then a degree of acceptance arose. “...what did Elise do?”  
  
Phil cast his eyes to the side of the room. “She stopped it. Said when I decided I wasn't looking for a rebound, I could find her.”  
  
“Huh.” Colton rubbed the back of his neck. “That's...something.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“...so what are you going to do?”  
  
Phil snorted. “You make it sound like Twilight or something. Team Hannah, or Team Elise?”  
  
“I don't mean to, I promise. But it's...kind of a big deal. I mean, they're both people. You can't just run around messing with them both or something.”  
  
“Yeah.” And then he sighed. “What would you do?”  
  
“ _Me?_ ”  
  
“Yeah, you, smarty. You've got it all together. What's God telling you?”  
  
Colton's eyes grew a little distant, and he went back to rubbing his crucifix. “...I think you just...I think you...” And then he shook his head. “No, you don't need to be asking me. You need to figure it out yourself.”  
  
“But how can I do that when I don't have a clue where to start?” he asked.  
  
“Just start _somewhere._ Think about Hannah and the time you had with her and if you want that back, and then think about Elise and what you could have with her and if you want to try that.”  
  
Phil frowned. “You don't have any more divine wisdom than that?”  
  
Colton shook his head slowly. “Afraid not.”  
  
“Great. My Colton Magic 8 Ball's broken.”  
  
“Sorry to disappoint.”  
  
“It's fine, man.” They fell quiet again, but even though Phil sensed that Colton was trying to give him thinking space he fought it. He didn't want to think about this right now. He wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere easier. So he looked up at Colton and tilted his head to the side. “So. I've told you my stuff. You gonna tell me yours?”  
  
Colton chuckled. “There's nothing to tell. You know it all already.”  
  
“I sort of doubt that.”  
  
“You saying I'm lying to you?”  
  
“I'm saying I think you're lying to yourself.” Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Big difference.”  
  
Colton came to his feet suddenly, so fast that Phil jolted back in his chair in surprise, and he started for the window. “I'm not lying about anything. I'm fine. It's my sister. That's all.”  
  
This was dangerous territory. The ground felt soft under his feet, like it could cave under him when he walked. But Phil wasn't nothing if not a little recklessly brave. That's what made an Idol. “What's up with your sister? Anything new, I mean?”  
  
“It's not a big deal.”  
  
“ _Colton._ ”  
  
Colton crossed his arms over his chest and ducked his head, staring down at the ground. Fine. If he wanted to play the quiet game, Phil could play it too. He stood up and began crossing the room to him, until they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. And then he waited.  
  
His patience was rewarded.  
  
“I got a phone call a little while ago. I was out there, right, with the four of them.” He nodded to the three girls and Heejun. “And it was from my mom. So I came inside. And she, uh...she...”  
  
Phil waited. He reached out and nudged Colton's arm. “Just tell me, man.”  
  
“She said...they're finding more cancer in her lymph nodes than they expected. Like, it spread _super_ fast. More surgeries. More everything. They can't even start the chemo to keep the breast cancer from coming back until they get rid of all this, you know?”  
  
Phil felt a black hole growing in his chest. Disappointment on top of sadness. He wasn't used to it. He wrinkled his brow. “What does it mean...for her?”  
  
“Like?”  
  
“...like, is it terminal?”  
  
He huffed out a sigh. “No. They don't think so. It's just...Phil, it's so much. It's everything. And it's not fair.” He gritted his teeth, a tightness in his jaw that Phil wasn't expecting. “She's supposed to be a normal nineteen-year-old girl. They were supposed to do the mastectomy, and she was going to be okay. Phil, she...” He shook his head. “She doesn't even have breasts anymore. Those are gone. What else are they going to have to take from her before she's okay?”  
  
“I'm sorry, man,” he murmured.  
  
“I'm just tired. I'm so tired.” He reached up and squeezed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “I asked Mom if I should come home, but she said Schyler wants me to finish it out here. Isn't that stupid?”  
  
Phil frowned. “If you feel like you need to go, you should go.”  
  
“But right now, she doesn't want me there. She said...she doesn't want to disrupt my life. You know? That we'll have the rest of our lives to hang out and be siblings and stuff. But this might be my last chance to see you all. So I should take advantage of it and just come home when this is all over.”  
  
There was more he wasn't saying. Phil heard it on his voice. The questions. What if they _didn't_ have the rest of their lives? What if she died tomorrow? What if the cancer kept spreading, and they couldn't just nuke it all away? But he also heard the resignation, the fact that he'd do anything to keep her happy.  
  
That was...strange for him. He didn't understand that thought, putting himself on the line to make someone else okay. He just didn't. He wondered if he'd missed that part of development when he was growing up.  
  
“So what are you gonna do?” Phil asked softly.  
  
Colton shrugged. “...stay here. Hang out with everybody. Try to keep moving forward.”  
  
Phil nodded.  
  
“And what're you gonna do?” Colton asked in response.  
  
He hadn't been expecting the question to be turned back on him like that. He chuckled. “I, uh...I don't know. Try to get my head on straight.”  
  
“Are you gonna talk to Elise?”  
  
“Do you think I should?” he asked, his voice softer than he meant it to be. Elise was still dangerous territory.  
  
“No. No, I really think you just...need to leave everything well enough alone right now, until you figure yourself out. Hang out with Heejun. Hang out with me. We'll set you straight.”  
  
Phil nodded. “You're probably right. As usual.” He noticed Heejun waving at him from the beach suddenly, and he smiled a little. “I think they miss us.”  
  
“Yeah, I think they do too.”  
  
“You wanna go see them?”  
  
“I guess we can.” But he was smiling too. He couldn't hide that. “Forget about everything for a little while.”  
  
“Yeah.”


	15. Chapter 15

Suffocating.  
  
He was smiling and he was suffocating.  
  
He was laughing and he was suffocating.  
  
Every minute, bleeding one right into the other, left him short of breath, choked at the throat, and wondering if he was going to survive the day.  
  
Colton Dixon was suffocating. And he wasn't sure how to do anything else.  
  
When everyone else had abandoned the beach that evening, he remained. He sat on the sand, feeling the warmth within it slowly seep away as the sun set, and simply listened to the rush of the water against the land. He had a strange feeling, a strange _hope_ , that maybe if he stayed here long enough, he could let every panic and every worry flow out of him like the tide receding back into the ocean.  
  
It was unlikely. But Colton had always been hopeful, hadn't he?  
  
A kernel of bitterness stirred in the base of his stomach. Yes, he'd been hopeful. He'd been optimistic. He'd been _faithful_. He was the one that everyone else could look to for encouragement and support, because he was the one who never broke under pressure or under stress. Why would he? He had a Savior to keep him going, didn't he? One that professed to know him and love him better than anyone else ever could.  
  
Colton was starting to wonder just how true this was.  
  
He tipped his head back and looked up at the stars. If it was to be believed, God had more power than there were stars in the sky. He had shaped this entire planet one way or another, whether it be in seven days by the touch of His hand or the slow shifting of evolution guided by a creative mind. He brought people back from the brink of death. He did miracles every day, whether they be noticed or not. He could _heal_ people.  
  
For a long moment, he began to shake. He held his thoughts at bay. He maintained perfect silence in his brain and focused only on the sounds of the ocean and the breeze. But he couldn't keep up such meditation forever, not when he was raw inside, burned a thousand times over in only around six months. He dipped his head and felt tears swell behind his eyelids and let the thought explode in his head, let it scream, let it rage. _Then why the HELL won't you heal a girl like Schyler?_  
  
There should've been a touch of guilt to the swear that he let fly in his mind, but he couldn't call any up. He was tired now. He was so tired that he had slowly stopped caring about such things, that now his words were held in check only out of habit. But when it came right down to it, those swears, those curses, that he'd spent his whole life distancing himself from, only _they_ seemed to contain the richness of his anger. Only they seemed appropriate enough to express it.  
  
There were many nights over the past years of his intimate connection with God that Colton had actually communed with Him. He sensed God's words in his mind. He sensed His guiding and nudging. He even began to conjure up what God might look like to him, Someone that he could see eye-to-eye with in the vividness of his imagination. Colton could count on those things. Every time he needed comfort or solace, he could talk to God, and He would answer.  
  
Not tonight. Not for the past six months, in fact, since that last night in Elise's apartment. And he was coming to the point of forgetting what God looked like.  
  
 _God, why have you forsaken me?_ The words came instantly to mind, the very words of Jesus Christ. But not even they called up an answer. There was the crash of the waves, and that was all.  
  
His skin was buzzing with anger and rage and fire and tension, and he didn't know if even the sky itself could hold it in. He came to his feet and looked over his shoulder, into the beachhouse where all the lights were turned off and everyone was sleeping. He didn't know what time it was. He only knew that he couldn't stay out here, where everything was so limitless. He needed confines. He needed something to rest against besides only earth.  
  
He let his feet carry him numbly into the house, where he would wait for comfort or sleep, whichever came first.  
  
~~  
  
There was something tense in the air tonight, Elise registered. She sat on her bed and stared at the floor and tried to feel what exactly it was.  
  
It could be something that only _she_ could feel, she decided. Her skin felt bruised and her eyes full of sand from how she hadn't slept a wink since that last moment she had with Phil. Just thinking about it made her chest ache and throb, like her heart was rebelling against the remembrance of what had made it pound so frantically just twenty-four hours before.  
  
This was bullshit. How could a man make her feel so much? How could he have a hold on her like this, even two or three years after meeting him for the first time? How could he only have slept with her once, and yet have made such a tremendous effect on her body that every experience after that was found wanting?  
  
It wasn't because of any crazy amount of skill. There _was_ some there. It was clear he and Hannah had been intimate probably a thousand times over through the course of their relationship, though that wasn't something she particularly wanted to focus on. Yes, he'd driven her wild. Even in his haze, whether he'd been drunk or only massively buzzed, he'd buried his head between her thighs and challenged her to bite her lip as sharply as she could to keep anyone else in the mansion from hearing what was going on. He'd made love to her with a forceful passion afterward, yes, but that wasn't what kept her remembering him night after night. It was the sweet cherishing that had gone along with it. It was the way he'd held her, the way he'd been careful to arrange the both of them so that she was most comfortable, the way he'd kissed her for twenty minutes afterward before the both of them fell to sleep, and the way she'd woken with his arm tucked around her waist and his body spooned tightly against hers.  
  
No other man that she had slept with made her feel that way. None. And that was why Phil could keep her from sleeping just by kissing her neck twenty-four hours before.  
  
She flitted her eyes to Erika, to make sure she was still asleep, before she came to her feet and wandered over to their window. She stared out at the ocean and wondered if the pull of the tides felt anything like the energy that was trying to pull her to Phil.  
  
But she couldn't give in. She couldn't. She'd already done that before. She'd already done something that Hannah deserved to slap her for. And even if the two of them were apart right now, who knew what tomorrow would bring? Did Elise really want to put another notch in her belt, the one she only wore when she was causing pain to women the world over by sleeping with their men?  
  
Movement on the beach caught her eye, and she quirked her brow as she touched her fingers to the glass and leaned in closer. It took her a long moment before she identified the figure as Colton.  
  
It was remarkable how quickly her heart could spin around, could suddenly shun the intimate pain it was feeling in favor of reaching out to someone else who was feeling something so very similar, if not more vivid. She hadn't seen him all day, but Erika had confided to her that he'd been quiet and listless every time she saw him. He didn't talk. He seemed to let Phil do all the talking for him, in fact, as if he'd run out of words.  
  
That wasn't like Colton. At all. And that made Elise want to break out from the bedroom and go after him.  
  
But she wouldn't. She knew herself. In situations like this, she had only one weapon that she used to help someone, and it wasn't going to work with him. He deserved better than that. He did. But _God,_ she wanted to help him.  
  
She wandered back to her bed and crawled into the warm covers again, quietly sighing. She heard a soft clatter against the roof, and it took her a moment to identify it as rain, as one of those brief summer storms that Florida seemed to have all the time. So she'd lay here. She'd listen to the rain fall and try to find the words she could say to him. And tomorrow, when she was strong enough to look at Phil without wanting to throw her arms around him and give up whatever standards she had left, she'd come out and say those words to Colton. And she'd fix him. And everything would be okay.  
  
~~  
  
The way the rain was pouring, he should've had no problem falling asleep. But here he was, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadow of the raindrops as they fell. His brain wouldn't shut off. It just took in the clattering rhythm and wondered if it could be effectively transcribed in the morning.  
  
Funny. You took a musician on vacation and he _still_ ended up working the whole damn time.  
  
Maybe a sandwich could chill him out. He inhaled, stretched every muscle in his body, and forced himself to stand, one hand resting on his empty stomach. Worth a try. Didn't even have to bother with a bathrobe or whatever since nobody was gonna be up at 4am anyway.  
  
He dragged his fingers through his hair and yawned as he slipped out of his room. He did mental tallying with every bedroom that he passed: Skylar snoring like a banshee even though she pretended she didn't, faint lamplight under Erika and Elise's door from Erika falling asleep while reading, Colton's doorway cracked to give him decent ventilation. This was nice. He'd kind of forgotten just how worn into these guys he was.  
  
He wondered if there was still any bologna left over. Maybe not a quintessential Southern boy meal, but dang, did he have a craving for it. Maybe he was pregnant or something. Maybe it was because it was the one meat that Hannah hated, that she always wrinkled her nose at when he said he was craving some. With that memory came a joint feeling, as it had much of the evening once Heejun had fallen asleep: happiness that now he could eat all the damn bologna he wanted without some whiny girlfriend trying to make him feel bad about it, sadness that now he couldn't watch the adorable way that she wrinkled her nose as she curled up against his side like a kitten while he ate the sandwich anyway. But he pushed that feeling, those images, away again. Better to ignore them than to feel so much, especially when his feelings were so goddamn confusing.  
  
As he passed by the living room he glanced inside to watch how the rain reflected on the ocean through the massive picture windows. What he got instead was a glimpse of moonlight shining against bleached cockatiel hair.  
  
Phil came to a slow stop and watched him, eyebrows furrowing. He didn't say a word. The moon sparkled against Colton's cheeks, but only faintly. Phil had made Hannah cry enough times, accidentally or otherwise, to figure out what it looked like after it was all over. He hesitated only until Colton leaned down and rubbed his cheek against the sleeve of his t-shirt. Now that the evidence was gone, he could approach him.  
  
“Can't sleep?” Phil asked.  
  
Colton looked at him from where he sat on the living room floor, one arm draped across the couch seat behind him. He shrugged. “It happens.”  
  
“Yeah,” Phil said softly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody else was stirring. “But not to you.”  
  
Colton sighed long and hard as he looked back out the window.  
  
There was a reason Phil was a musician. He wasn't a dentist because he really sucked at pulling things out of people. He wasn't a pastry chef because he was awful at being patient. And he wasn't a psychiatrist because over the past twenty-something years he'd missed out on that whole giving-good-advice thing. But all the bedroom doors were staying shut. Phil might not be the most qualified, but he was what Colton was gonna get.  
  
Phil leaned against the back of the nearest chair and cocked his head to the side. “You slept at all tonight?”  
  
Colton shook his head.  
  
“What about yesterday?”  
  
Another headshake.  
  
“Damn, boy,” he murmured with a quiet laugh. “How're you doing it?”  
  
“I worked at Starbucks for six months. I can make some pretty decent coffee.”  
  
Phil shrugged. “All right, fair enough.” When Colton didn't say anything else, Phil tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling, feigning nonchalance. “You hungry?”  
  
“Nah.”  
  
“Huh.” He paused. “Thirsty?”  
  
Colton was silent.  
  
Phil wandered into the kitchen, absently rubbing at his stubble. He opened the refrigerator and glanced over the soda cans. His eyes skittered along past the fridge and into the sink, where the water filter dripped every few seconds. He hesitated for only a few seconds before grabbing a bottle hanging out on the counter and studying the label. Perfect.  
  
When he'd made his way back in the living room, he plopped the bottle and a couple of glasses on the coffee table and watched Colton's eyes wander toward them. “...vodka?”  
  
Phil shrugged and sat on the couch. “You said you were thirsty. Sort of.”  
  
He waited for indecision to play across Colton's face. He waited for questions, maybe even for Colton to shove the bottle away so hard that it spilled on the carpet. But instead when he reached for it, he held it gently. He poured himself a shot and sat back, studying the tiny glass in his hands.  
  
“You ever had any before?” Phil asked as he splashed a bit into his own glass.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well then, you've got two choices,” Phil murmured. He swirled the vodka around in the glass like wine as he propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. “Sip it and slowly get used to your throat ripping apart, or toss it back and get drunk that much faster.”  
  
“Who says I want to get drunk?” Colton asked, tilting his head to the side.  
  
Phil didn't reply. He nudged the bottle with his toes until it perched right at the edge of the table, directly next to Colton's hand.  
  
Colton sighed. And then he threw his head back and took every drop of his shot. Not even a second later he was clinging to the table and hacking like an 80-year-old smoker. Phil watched him, waiting to see if it'd stay down, and when it did he nodded thoughtfully. “Man,” Colton choked out, wiping at his eyes. “How the heck do you guys do this stuff?”  
  
Phil smiled. “It gets easier.”  
  
“What, the drinking?”  
  
“No. Life.”  
  
Colton stared at the bottle for a long moment before he poured another shot.  
  
“You wanna talk yet?” Phil asked.  
  
Colton considered the vodka, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass. And then he spoke. “You ever have someone get cancer that just doesn't seem to go away, Phil? And then wonder if they're gonna die of it?”  
  
Phil paused. He shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Then I don't really know how to talk about it with you.”  
  
He was getting in deep here. He could feel it. But he couldn't back out. There was something in how Colton's cheekbones were twice as sharp as they had been the last time Phil'd seen him, in the way that the moonlight made him look gaunt and breakable, that made Phil wanna keep wading in no matter how fast the water was moving. He took in the rigidness of Colton's posture and the loose fists he clenched before stopping at his crucifix necklace. It didn't make sense. Phil shook his head again and leaned forward. “Y'know, I figured you of all people'd be talking about how God was gonna take care of-”  
  
“God?” Colton furrowed his eyebrows. He reached up and began to rub the crucifix, his drink wobbling in its glass. “...I've been thinking about that. And you know what I figured out?”  
  
“No,” Phil murmured. “What?”  
  
“God...is a selfish... _bastard._ ”  
  
He couldn't have shocked Phil more if he'd hit him. Phil sat up straight, his eyes growing huge and his heart stopping clean in his chest. “Wh-what?”  
  
“You heard me,” Colton whispered, each word as sharp as glass. “He's either that, or He's sick. _Sick,_ Phil. Nobody makes someone suffer like this if they're not having fun just torturing them o-or compensating for something.”  
  
“Colton, that's not-”  
  
“I can't do it anymore. I can't.” His fingers tightened around the crucifix until Phil could see them turning white. “I can't spent my life chasing after someone who'd do this to Schyler.” And then he ripped the necklace off his neck in a sickening snap and chucked it across the room.  
  
Phil stared at the necklace's landing place. He heard Colton gulp down the second shot and slam the glass on the table before he poured himself a refill. And then he realized just how out of his element he was.  
  
Phil Phillips, musician extraordinaire, awful at everything else in the world, was trying to help Colton through a crisis of faith. _Him._ The man who couldn't keep his girlfriend happy even when he _wasn't_ on tour. He couldn't be what Colton needed. All he could do was help him get drunk enough to deal with it.  
  
Phil stood up and made his way across the room. He squatted down and picked up the necklace, feeling the metal in his palm, expecting warmth but being startled by how cold it was instead. When he glanced over his shoulder, Colton was staring out the window again, his eyes sparkling dangerously.  
  
He wasn't qualified for this. And he was tired of screwing shit up.  
  
When Phil suddenly ducked into the hallway, Colton didn't say a word. Phil went to the first door he could think of and walked inside without preamble, approaching the bed on the far side of the room. Elise woke quietly and quickly when Phil gently shook her shoulder.  
  
“We have a problem,” he whispered.  
  
~~  
  
Seeing him made everything real suddenly. Elise came to a sudden stop in the archway of the living room, eyes widening, and looked over at Phil. “What's wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” Colton murmured.  
  
Elise looked back at him. “...you're sitting on the floor drinking vodka.”  
  
He didn't say a word. Simply rotated the glass in his hand and studied it. But as he tilted his head to the side she watched the way the moonlight played on his eyes, making them sparkle.  
  
They were sparkling way more than they should be.  
  
Elise looked at Phil, but he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the kitchen before dropping her voice urgently. “What in the world am I supposed to do?”  
  
He shrugged. “Make him himself again?”  
  
“Make him himself?” she hissed. “His little sister's probably dying of cancer! You want me to just make that stop happening?”  
  
He grabbed her hand and slid something cool and metallic into her palm. Colton's necklace. She furrowed her eyebrows, but Phil spoke softly before she could ask. “He's pissed at God.”  
  
She closed her hand around the necklace and leaned against the kitchen counter, dragging her fingers through her hair with a heavy sigh.  
  
“He's pissed at God, and I don't know what to say about it.”  
  
Of course that was why Phil needed her: to make Colton better. Why should she ever have assumed anything else? It seemed like she wasn't going to get the night to think her words over after all. She dropped the necklace on the counter and twisted the chain into an intricate pattern with her fingers. “Damn. He broke the clasp and everything.”  
  
Phil crossed his arms over his naked chest and nodded. “That's why I got you.”  
  
“Because I can fix it?”  
  
“Because you can fix him.”  
  
She locked eyes with him, cheeks flushing.  
  
He held her gaze firmly as he shrugged a single shoulder. “You and I know him. We probably know him better than anybody else in this place. But I'm all thumbs when it comes to helping somebody. And you've got a heart for it.”  
  
“But what if I make it worse?” she whispered.  
  
He shook his head. “You can't. If he's pissed at God, you know he's already at rock bottom. Anything you say or do's only gonna help.”  
  
Elise stared down at the kitchen counter. She drew in a deep breath and gathered the necklace into her hand.  
  
“I...look, I don't know if I can say anything, but I'm only gonna suggest one thing.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Phil frowned. “...don't move in too fast. Ease in. I don't want us to scare him.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Remember what we said that night?”  
  
There was no doubting what night he meant. It might as well be a title, with capital letters and everything. She nodded again.  
  
“We never drank with him before. Always wondered what it'd be like. And...look, now he's loosened up. That's good. You can use that. We both can.”  
  
She was nodding faster now. It all made sense. Her eyes were already wandering to the door. “Yeah.”  
  
Phil sidled over to her and touched his hands to her shoulders. “You ready?” he murmured close to her ear.  
  
Goosebumps exploded across her skin as Phil began to knead her shoulders with his large, powerful hands. She hadn't forgotten the feeling of him. Apparently he hadn't forgotten either. “...yeah. Yeah, I am.”  
  
He nodded, his head so close to hers that the small head movement tickled her hair. “Go get 'em.”  
  
When she came into the living room, Colton hadn't moved an inch. He didn't even acknowledge her when she sat on the couch cushion right beside his arm.  
  
Jesus, he was hurting. She could see it in everything about him. She watched the way he stiffened when she sat, how he drew his arm away from her an inch or so, and listened to him take in a long breath like he was preparing for battle. “I guess you've come to tell me to trust God for the second time, huh?” he asked softly.  
  
She tightened her hand around his necklace. Yes. Yes, she had. But she _couldn't_ tell him that. She met Phil's eyes across the room and watched him shake his head. “...I just came to have a drink,” she replied.  
  
Colton snorted. He offered his own shot glass over his shoulder. “Knock yourself out. Always heard it was better to get drunk with good company instead of alone.”  
  
She hesitated, trying to find a way to take the glass without touching his hand, but it was so small and his grip so solid that there was no going around it. Her fingers brushed his own, and she watched the way he stiffened even more. But in that small movement, a tear fell down his cheek. He wanted to be touched, she realized. He _wanted_ it, even if he didn't know how to deal with it when he was feeling so broken.  
  
She remembered Phil's words. Don't scare him. Don't move in too fast. She didn't want him to shut down before he ever gave her a chance. And so she simply rested her hand on the couch cushion behind his head, close enough that he'd be aware of it but far enough that neither of them could accidentally touch each other. He didn't move away. She counted that a small victory. She tossed the vodka back and felt the familiar burn, the disgusting taste of rubbing alcohol, and waited for it to give her a punch of courage.  
  
“Y'know,” she murmured, “Phil and I used to drink together all the time during Idol. We always wondered what it'd be like if you joined us.”  
  
Colton turned his head just enough so that he could see her from the corner of his eye. “Maybe I should've.”  
  
She smiled. “Nah, it would've been a bad idea. You don't wanna see a drunk Phil. Gets pretty messy,” she said as her eyes wandered to meet the aforementioned man's gaze again.  
  
He was smiling as well, a little intimate light in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I never heard you complaining.”  
  
There was a joint feeling of pleasure and pain in her stomach when he said that. She didn't know which she was supposed to feel at the moment, so she simply leaned forward and poured herself another shot. “Anyway. Just one person seeing that atrocity was bad enough. Trust me.”  
  
Colton was quiet for a few moments. “I always wondered what I'd be like when I was drunk. You know? I think everybody that doesn't drink wonders that at one time or another.”  
  
Elise shrugged. As long as he was talking, she wasn't going to stop him.  
  
“What's it feel like when you get drunk, anyway?” He furrowed his eyebrow. “Everything start getting hazy?”  
  
“Something like that,” she murmured.  
  
“Huh.” He brushed a hand absently through his hair. “I think I'm getting drunk.”  
  
She tilted her head to the side. “How many have you had?”  
  
He looked at the glass in her hand and frowned. “Two.” And then he reached out toward her hand. It took a little doing, but he grabbed the shot glass relatively easily. “Might as well make it an uneven three.”  
  
“Careful, Colt,” Phil said from the door. “Don't wanna be holding your hair back tomorrow morning when you're puking in the ocean.”  
  
A tiny smile touched Colton's lips. It was so beautifully tragic that Elise felt suffocated for a moment. “You'd do that?”  
  
With that, Phil's eyes turned incredibly serious, until there wasn't a single touch of humor on his face. “Of course. We're a team, buddy: you, me, and Elise. I'd do anything for ya'll.”  
  
Colton nodded slowly. And then he ducked his head. Elise watched another couple of tears trickle down his cheeks. He didn't speak again, and Elise didn't push him to. She looked up at Phil as he crossed the room and grabbed the bottle of vodka, pouring himself another shot. He leaned forward with the almost-full glass and, when Colton lifted his hand, tapped the two shot glasses together in a faux toast. Phil then held it toward Elise and nodded. She was so touched by just that little inclusion that she lit up like a candle. Then he drank down the shot, and Colton did the same.  
  
Phil hummed and held the glass out to Elise again. “C'mon, girlie, you gotta keep up.”  
  
She smiled. “Not my fault you only grabbed two glasses,” she murmured as she took it.  
  
He shrugged. “Whatever. I'll take the bottle.”  
  
“As long as you leave enough for the rest of us,” she teased. She threw back her second shot.  
  
As she looked back at Colton, she watched the edges begin to blur around him, lighting him so clearly in the moonlight that he looked positively luminescent. He was so astoundingly handsome, it made her catch her breath. But it was a different sort of handsome than she was used to. She could look at Phil and immediately be turned on by his rugged masculinity, by his stubble and the way he carried himself and wore his clothes, but with Colton the handsomeness snuck up on her. It was framed by a distinct femininity in the slenderness of his figure, his carriage, even how he smiled and talked. It always surprised her so suddenly, how she'd be watching him and listening to him talk and would only then realize that she was blushing and her heart was beating a little faster.  
  
This was one of those moments. She exhaled slowly and took in his profile.  
  
He was still struggling for control. She saw that. She saw it and it broke her heart. All she wanted to do was pull him close and fix him, make him forget the shit his life had turned into even for just a moment, but she didn't know how to do that. She didn't know if he even wanted her to in the first place.  
  
And then his hand slid out and grabbed hers, and her throat closed.  
  
The shot glass fell to the ground as she came to the floor beside him and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and she waited to feel him shivering with sobs, to feel tears falling on her skin. He tucked his arms around her a little tighter and grabbed fistfuls of her bathrobe.  
  
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she whispered into his hair. The heady smell of the remnants of his hairspray drowned her for a moment, and she nuzzled deeper into his soft locks to take in more of it.  
  
He shook his head. “I...I don't know what to say.”  
  
“Just say what's on your mind,” Phil said. He sounded closer than before. Elise realized he'd come to sit on the couch where she'd been only moments before. “Talk it out.”  
  
Colton heaved a few breaths, but no tears came. When he spoke, there was an odd timbre to his voice. “I don't know if I want to talk.”  
  
“What do you want?” Phil asked.  
  
Elise felt Colton's grip soften. His fingers pressed into her back tentatively, like he was exploring her, and she leaned back just enough to get a glimpse of his face. His brows were furrowed. He was studying the column of her neck like it was a sculpture that he didn't understand. And then his eyes met her own. His were damp, yes, but not filled with tears. They were filled with a question that Elise couldn't interpret.  
  
He reached up and touched her hair gently, and a shiver shot down her spine. Now _she_ was the one grabbing handfuls of his shirt and looking at him in confusion.  
  
And then she knew. She knew what he wanted, even if he didn't know himself.  
  
She touched his cheek, and he both leaned into her touch and looked even more confused in the process. And then she gently captured his lips with her own.  
  
~~  
  
Kissing Elise was a heavenly experience in and of itself. Colton's eyes widened, and he stared at her in a vague sense of panic for a long few seconds before he took notice of the sensations creeping through his entire body.  
  
It wasn't the first time he'd kissed a woman. But he didn't kiss every girl he went out with. He made it a point to make sure he kept himself under control when he did, that he never went farther than they were ready for. He'd barely had a make-out session in his life.  
  
But he'd always been sober when he kissed a girl before. And now the alcohol clouding his mind was destroying those gentlemanly barriers. It was like the floodgates had opened, ready to let him know how it felt for a woman to overwhelm him just with her lips. He dug his fingers into her hair and closed his eyes.  
  
It was incredible how his body knew instinctively how to kiss her, how to hold her, how to pull her closer until her breasts were pressing against his chest - _Jesus,_ she had a great figure – and her hands were sliding under his t-shirt. He felt his heart pounding so hard that he thought he was about to keel over and die. And when her hands accidentally – that _was_ accidental, right? - brushed over the waistband of his pants he felt every blood vessel in his body shoot southward.  
  
She broke the kiss, but he was reluctant to open his eyes. Everything was magnified right now, every touch, every minute little sensation, and he wanted to know what it'd feel like if she kept going. He opened his mouth to ask her not to stop, but a stifled little groan came out instead as she pressed her lips to his jawline.  
  
Jesus Christ, he'd known Elise was a woman, but he was suddenly incredibly aware of just how passionate she was. Her hands were devouring every inch of skin on his back. They were lighting trails of fire every time that her fingers moved, and he found himself desperately arching his back to feel more - _more,_ dammit! She kissed every inch of his jaw before descending to his neck.  
  
“Jesus, Elise!” he whispered. He clawed handfuls of her bathrobe into his hands and squeezed them like he was in pain. And he was, he really _was,_ a prickly pain that bordered on the edge of desperation, and he somehow knew that the only way it'd go away is if she didn't stop, if she _never_ stopped, if she ate him alive, body and soul.  
  
He needed her closer. He needed to feel every inch of her pressed against him. He let his hands slide over her shoulders, her back, the valley of her waist, until they swelled out with the curves of her hips and seized control of them. He dragged her on top of him and uttered a whiny sort of moan when he felt her lock her thighs around his hips. She stayed there for a moment, flicking her tongue against his jugular, before she defied his hands on her hips and instead straddled a single one of his legs. And then she did the most extraordinary thing. She ground against it.  
  
“Je-! Holy...!” He couldn't say words. He couldn't even comprehend everything he was feeling. All he knew was that she was suddenly pressing her forehead against his temple, that she was breathing incredibly hot little gasps of air against the shell of his ear, and that she was radiating a warmth through her underwear that rivaled the sun. He was hard – so _painfully_ hard – and every mewling little moan that she cooed into his ear only made him more and more turned on until he wanted to turn around and press her into the couch and make love to her for days.  
  
He couldn't take it. He had to feel her skin. He peeled the bathrobe off her shoulders and wrapped his arms greedily around her, sliding his hands over her smooth, bare arms and feeling like he was going to burst into flame. He let his hands travel along every inch of her back and arms until he hit the couch instead, until he suddenly encountered something coarse on the cushion.  
  
Phil. It was Phil's leg under his boxers. He'd forgotten Phil was even there.  
  
He was overwhelmed. He was riding a wave that he didn't understand, that was going to throw him under and destroy him. He curved his hand around Phil's kneecap and squeezed desperately, looking for help, looking for more, looking for _anything_ as long as he could survive this crashing force that was going to consume him.  
  
When Phil suddenly broke away from Colton, there was a moment of awareness where he surfaced and opened his eyes and expected to see Phil storming out of the room in disgust. But even though Phil wasn't still on the couch, he wasn't out the door either. He was on the floor with the both of them.  
  
There was a sudden bumping of fingers, of figures, as Phil embraced Elise from behind, letting his hands take liberties that Colton wouldn't allow himself, and Elise threw her head back with a surprised gasp and rested it against Phil's shoulder. He was whispering something into her ear, something that Colton couldn't understand, and all he knew was that the grinding against his thigh came faster, more frenzied, that while one of Elise's hands went back to tangle in Phil's hair the other was going to wrap around the back of Colton's neck.  
  
He was losing what little control of the situation he'd had before. Their world of two had expanded to three, and he understood that even less. Colton grabbed Elise's bare thighs with an urge to tether himself to reality, but his fingers against her silky skin only made him less coherent, less able to comprehend the world. He didn't fight it when Elise pulled him in for another kiss, even as she uttered a breathy sigh with every movement against his leg.  
  
She couldn't keep kissing him, he realized, when she was driving herself to the brink of some ecstasy, but when she dropped her head back against Phil's shoulder again he didn't want to give up that closeness. He kept himself pressed forward, feeling Phil's working hands between him and Elise's body, and when he opened his eyes to half-lids he realized he was only a breath away from Phil's face.  
  
This wasn't just a frenzy of passion, Colton was slowly beginning to realize. This was Elise trying to express to him just how strongly she felt for him, whether it made sense or not. It was an expression of love. And Elise wasn't the only one he loved.  
  
The kiss he gave Phil was just a peck. But Phil's gaze turned fiery, turned half-lidded itself, and he suddenly reached up with one hand to grab the back of Colton's neck in a bruising grip. And then he kissed him like a predator devouring his prey, like he wanted to swallow every inch of Colton in one kiss, and God, but that image just made him all the harder, and Colton buried himself in the cataclysm.  
  
He heard Elise's breathy moans growing quicker and more erratic. He felt Phil's hand grab his hair almost painfully as he nipped at Colton's lips. Colton's body took over his hands and gripped Elise's thighs tighter and pulled her into a faster rhythm. And then, as she buried her face in his neck and uttered a sharp, muffled cry, Phil held him tightly and unmoving in the kiss. All time froze. And then Elise melted into his chest and Phil let him go and Colton collapsed back against the couch.  
  
He was panting. He was overcome. He felt like he could run around the entire planet in three seconds flat. He felt like he could take on anything.  
  
Words didn't exist to describe what he was feeling right now. He weakly wrapped his arms around Elise and held her close to him. He felt Phil's legs bumping against his own and saw him place his hand on Elise's back. Phil looked breathless too. He was staring straight into Colton's eyes, a strange little frown on his swollen lips.  
  
Swollen. Jesus. Colton had made them like that. They'd kissed. He'd kissed Phil. And, what's more, he'd liked it.  
  
He didn't know how to cope with this information right now. He was sweating profusely. He needed a shower, both to wash himself clean and to take care of the raging pain that demanded satiation. He shuddered with a distinct ache that oddly enough made him want to cry.  
  
Elise was the first to speak. “What...what did we just do?” she whispered.  
  
Colton didn't have an answer for that. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.  
  
Phil spoke next. “I don't know.”  
  
“I don't either,” Colton murmured.  
  
Elise traced a hand over Colton's chest. It made him ache all the more. “I...can't figure out...if it was bad or not.”  
  
Phil snorted. “You can't?”  
  
“I mean, it's not like we...” Elise trailed off again.  
  
“Well, _Colton and I_ didn't, anyway,” Phil said softly. It was insane for Colton to imagine teasing anyone right now, but there it was, right on Phil's tone. And, what's more, it made him chuckle softly. He heard a slap as Elise hit Phil, and an answering “Ow!”  
  
“Well, I don't hear you complaining,” Elise mouthed off. And then she hesitated. She looked up at Colton tentatively. “...Colton?”  
  
It only took a few more moments for something to occur to him. “...you two...you've done this before, haven't you?”  
  
Elise winced. “...once.”  
  
“The night after you got eliminated,” Phil added. “Except we actually...yeah.”  
  
Colton felt like he should be surprised. He really did. But at the same time, he wasn't. It explained why they could so easily transition into being playful. They'd seen each other like this before. They'd seen each other naked. He became acutely aware of Elise still straddling him in nothing but her nightshirt and panties and uttered a small, shaky sigh.  
  
“But that wasn't like... _this,_ ” Elise said. She looked over her shoulder at Phil, and Phil nodded in agreement. “This was...”  
  
“...yeah,” Phil answered.  
  
Colton's hands were still resting on Elise's thighs, but he didn't see reason to move them. It felt normal. It felt like they were supposed to be there.  
  
That, more than anything, began to sober him up in an instant. Because that, above everything else, didn't make sense with the foundation of his beliefs. And then he began to wonder if maybe that wasn't the first time he'd been lied to.  
  
Phil leaned forward and braced his hands on either side of Colton's shoulders, directly against the couch, and Colton's skin thrummed at feeling his body heat so close to his own. When Phil buried his face in Elise's neck, she murmured a soft protest, touching a hand to his forehead. “Enough. I'm spent. And you're insatiable.”  
  
Phil relented, but let his cheek rest on her shoulder as he glanced up at her with a sly smirk. “Calling me insatiable would be referring to me actually getting some and still wanting more, you know,” he teased.  
  
Elise chuckled. “You're never gonna let that go, are you?”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“Well, too bad, because you know me. I'm exhausted now.”  
  
Colton let his eyes flick back and forth between them, taking in the banter they so easily shared, and wondered if he'd be feeling like an outsider if the alcohol inside of him hadn't so drastically lowered his boundaries. He felt like he was a part of them even if he kept his mouth shut, even if he just let their body weight rest gently against his own. They'd all fused together without meaning to, he decided.  
  
“My leg's falling asleep,” he finally murmured, and Elise sighed in reluctance as she crawled off of him.  
  
“Now what?” Elise asked.  
  
Phil was the one who answered after several long moments of silence. “Bed?”  
  
“If that's you trying to get me to get in bed with you again...”  
  
“No, Elise, I mean our own beds.” He gave her another lazy smile. “I don't care how much you've had to drink, I'm not sleeping with you while Heejun or Erika's in the room.”  
  
“You're not sleeping with me at all,” she mouthed off as she came to her feet, a hand shooting out to stabilize herself against the couch arm.  
  
Phil winced. “Ouch. I help you get off, and that's the thanks I get?”  
  
She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I could've rubbed my own tits, thank you.”  
  
Phil heaved a heavy sigh, but didn't seem determined to refute this. He simply shrugged at Colton, as if to say 'What can you do?' before he offered him a hand. “C'mon, man.”  
  
As Colton stood with Phil's help, he realized distantly that he was the only one going to bed by himself tonight. Both Phil and Elise had roommates. They had people that cared about them helping to contain them in a dream world. But he wouldn't have that, would he? He'd be alone.  
  
They walked down the hallway, Elise leading the way with her bright white bathrobe shining in the faint light like a beacon to help them along, and when they separated she gave them both a soft kiss on the cheek. No words were spoken. They weren't needed. As Colton eased into his bed, he thought he would be okay. He tucked himself in under the blankets and rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. But as he lay there for limitless minutes, his skin burning, his very heart keening, he thought he might never fall asleep again.


	16. Chapter 16

There was something very interesting about getting tipsy, Elise decided, especially getting to the stage just before becoming completely drunk. Inhibitions dropped. Tongues wagged. And the things that you'd only dreamed of trying suddenly seemed pretty easy to achieve, even _necessary_ to go after. If you didn't, you thought you'd never get another chance, like you might die the next day or even the next hour. It was essential to try. And then you did that thing, and it was wonderful, and you decided that if you _did_ die tomorrow, you'd get along just fine.  
  
And then the sun came up. And you remembered. And your entire life shattered.  
  
The very second Elise became aware of the fact that she was conscious, she wanted to do nothing but press her face into her pillow and go back to sleep, back to the world where she didn't have to remember _anything,_ because last night was so vividly imprinted on the front of her brain that she wasn't sure anything else existed. She curled into a ball and pressed her thighs tightly together and trembled so suddenly, so viciously, that she wondered if she'd just had a seizure.  
  
Erika was already gone, she noticed, and she thanked God for her roommate's early rising, if only so she couldn't be there to witness Elise's sudden trauma. She thought of another early riser, one whose thigh she'd rocked against last night to satisfaction, and squinted her eyes shut again.  
  
It wasn't that it was a particularly earth-shattering climax. It wasn't. Far from it. Elise was familiar enough with the feeling of her body to draw far more exquisite orgasms out of herself with half the work, whether through her hand or a partner's. No, it was the desperate emotional intimacy that she'd felt in that moment, like she'd reached through both her chest and her spine to sink her palms into Colton and Phil, to melt into them.  
  
If just a little make-out session with Colton and Phil could make her feel that way, her mind whispered, what would it feel like if she actually made love to them?  
  
No. They were better than that. They deserved better. Or at least one of them did. The other, she'd already pulled in, and she didn't know if she'd ever really be able to let him go.  
  
She remembered certain things from the night before with a distracting, almost frightening vibrance. She could taste Colton, for example, hiding just under the vodka. She could still feel the smoothness of his chest under her palms. And when she closed her eyes, she could hear his almost heartbreaking moan echoing endlessly in her ears.  
  
She'd taken advantage of him last night, she realized. Phil had pulled her into the room hoping she could pull Colton out of himself, and instead she'd let her heart lead the way when she should have chosen her mind. Her damn heart. It meant well, but it always fudged the delivery.  
  
The door quietly opened, and Elise glanced up in time to see Erika peeking around the corner. “Sweetie, it's almost ten.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “You want me to bring you anything? You still feeling sick?”  
  
Elise curled a hand around her stomach. She hadn't drank enough to want to throw up. The alcohol had settled inside of her easily. “No, just...tired. I'll be up in a little while.”  
  
Erika seemed to relax at her words. She came into the room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. “Thank God you're feeling better. Colton's been in bed all day. I think it's something going around, a stomach bug or whatever.”  
  
A stomach bug. Right.  
  
“Anyway, Heejun made pancakes, and they're surprisingly good.” Erika's eyes twinkled as she smiled. “I saved you a few just in case, but I can't keep an eye on them for long, and Skylar looked like she was about to steal them.”  
  
“Go ahead and let her. I don't know if my stomach's up for pancakes today.” But realizing that Erika wasn't going to leave the room without a sign that her roommate was on the mend, Elise sat up and stretched her arms with a fake yawn. “I'll have some soup later.”  
  
“Mmkay. You sure you don't want any ginger ale or something?”  
  
“Nah. I'm good.”  
  
“All right. We were gonna run down to the beach. Want me to wait on you?”  
  
Elise shook her head. “I'm gonna go take a shower before you all want it again.” She smiled. “Savor the hot water, you know.”  
  
“Enjoy it while you can.”  
  
After Erika left, Elise slid to the edge of her bed and touched her bare feet to the cool hardwood floor, furrowing her eyebrows. The entire beach house had suddenly become a live wire. She could only stay in her bedroom for so long before she needed to pee, for example, or eat, and every corner that she turned could reveal Phil or Colton. And then the awkwardness would begin.  
  
It didn't matter that she was a seasoned veteran of the awkwardness. Knowing how to negotiate it didn't make it any easier to bear when you thought that maybe, just maybe, it could've meant something this time.  
  
She couldn't wait forever. Her bladder was already about to explode, and she was feeling a little lightheaded from eating so little before drinking yesterday. She came to her feet, wrapped herself tightly in her bathrobe, and set off to the bathroom.  
  
She managed to make it there without too much fuss. Skylar and Hollie both exploded out of their bedroom dressed in their adorable swimsuits, but other than telling her good morning they didn't acknowledge her much on their way to the back door. She relieved herself and studied herself in the mirror, judging the feeling of her stomach, before deciding she'd have to eat something before risking getting under such hot, pulsing water as their very hard shower. She browsed the available boxes of cereal in the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of Lucky Charms with milk before trying to figure out where to eat.  
  
Normally she'd just sit at the kitchen island, but that felt too public. The living room was a pretty fine choice too, with a view of a particularly blue ocean, but when she saw the half-empty bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, one on the coffee table and the other on the floor, she recoiled from the room so fast that she was surprised she didn't spill her milk. She was still standing in the kitchen when Heejun appeared, his jolly self jiggling in swim trunks and flip-flops.  
  
“Elise!” he shouted, and she winced as she turned to face him. “You finally feeling better?”  
  
“I'm getting there.” She lifted the cereal bowl for his perusal. “Hoping I'll keep this down today.”  
  
He quickly held up his hands, crossed at the wrist as if he was warding off the devil. “Dude, if you start ralphing, just aim it anywhere but me, that's all I'm gonna ask. Anybody else. Phil. Pick Phil. He likes you.”  
  
She fought to keep her expression neutral, even maybe slightly amused. “I don't think even Erika likes me enough to forgive me if I threw up on her.”  
  
“I think you underestimate your likeability,” he said with a slow, sagely nod. “I mean, everybody knows you're _my_ favorite person, you know?”  
  
“Unless I get sick on you?”  
  
“Yeah, that was at the bottom of the contract: Heejun will be your biggest fan unless you turn into the Exorcist girl.”  
  
Any other day she would have grinned, kept the conversation going, seen just how ridiculous the both of them could get, but her heart wasn't in it today, nor her mind. She was slow and sluggish, and she didn't have the energy to keep up such verbal gymnastics. And so she bowed her head and forced a small smile. “I'll have to read the small print more often.” She wandered over to the elusive dining room, where they hadn't done anything but play card games yet. “Well. I'm gonna go in here so I don't accidentally infect somebody.”  
  
“Cool.” Heejun floated toward the back door. “I'll catch you later.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
She waited until he'd left before exhaling, her entire form feeling like it shrank into itself. She didn't know why she was crazy enough to think she was up to dealing with people today. After last night, she didn't want to see a single soul, especially not-  
  
“...”  
  
Elise stood in the doorframe of the dining room, meeting Phil's eyes. He was at the head of the table with a bowl of Cheerios, and he was staring right back at her.  
  
Her life was a farce, wasn't it?  
  
Phil came quickly to his feet, eyes wide, and opened his mouth to speak, but Elise interrupted him. “I'll go. Don't worry. I can eat somewhere else.”  
  
“Why?” Phil asked, wrinkling his brow. “There's like thirty chairs at this table. You don't gotta go anywhere.”  
  
Elise turned away anyway, hanging her head. “I'll just go eat in my room-”  
  
“Elise.”  
  
She paused.  
  
It took him a long few seconds to form his thoughts, but she wasn't that surprised by it. When she finally listened to him inhale again, she wasn't any more tense than when she'd started to leave. She knew him too well. “Can we talk?”  
  
 _Now_ she was tense. Now she was so anxious that her shoulders were swelling up to her ears. “Do we have to?”  
  
“I want to.”  
  
She didn't care what he wanted. She wanted to do something different. Why should she put that aside for him? And yet she didn't move. She stayed.  
  
“About last night-”  
  
“I don't want to talk about last night.”  
  
“We've _got_ to.”  
  
“No, Phil, we don't. We never talked about that night during Idol, and we don't have to talk about this.”  
  
“This is _different._ ”  
  
“How?” She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. “How is it any different than that?”  
  
Phil sucked in a deep, stabilizing breath. “Because we got Colton involved.”  
  
Elise flinched. She looked at the ground again.  
  
“Last time it was Hannah in the middle, but that's okay, because she didn't know. She never had to know. But Colton knows. He was there.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” she murmured reflexively. “You trusted me to fix it, and I just made it worse.”  
  
“Elise, that's not what I'm talking about. Elise, I...God, can't you look at me?”  
  
“No.” She shook her head. She felt tears in her eyes.  
  
There was the sound of shuffling, and then she was flinching when he touched her arm. He turned her to face him, and she met his eyes because to do the opposite would be to let him down. “...since when have I ever done what you wanted?” he asked softly.  
  
She let the tears well up. This wouldn't be the first time he'd seen her cry. “We screwed up, didn't we?”  
  
He slowly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah we did.”  
  
“So what do we do?”  
  
“I don't know.” He sighed and let go of her arm. When he wandered back to the table, she followed him. “Hell, it's probably me that did the most damage.”  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
He sat down and dragged his fingers through his hair, leaning forward. “I kissed him, Elise.”  
  
It felt like ice suddenly coursed down her throat, straight into her stomach. “...what?”  
  
Phil looked up at her, tenting his hands in front of his lips and furrowing his eyebrows. “You didn't see?”  
  
Her cheeks flushed. She glanced away. “I mean, my eyes were closed for most of it. You're both kind of distracting.”  
  
When Phil didn't reply, she looked at him again. There was a warmth and a sultriness in his half-lidded eyes that made her too easily remember the feeling of his fingers on her breasts, his hand brushing against her underwear. The iciness of her shock and the heat of her memory were confusing. It made her feel sick, maybe a little dizzy, and she sat in the chair at the far end of the table from him. “Well,” he murmured, flicking his eyes down to the tabletop. “It happened. Twice.”  
  
“I can't believe you kissed him.”  
  
He scoffed. “You're telling me.”  
  
“I'm serious. I don't even like...I don't know how to...” It made so little sense to her brain that she couldn't even find the words for it. She'd seen the passionate Phil. He hadn't been putting on an act when he made love to her, had he? Was his relationship with Hannah all some crazy cover-up to hide his true sexuality? Or was it more simple than that? “Have you always been...bisexual?”  
  
He shook his head. “I'm not bisexual.”  
  
Oh God. Her heart sank a little. “You're _gay?_ ”  
  
“What? No! Hell no!” Phil laughed. “No, that's not it.”  
  
“I don't...understand.”  
  
His eyes grew a little distant then. He focused on the far side of the room. “I guess you could call me straight. But a little...Colton-sexual.”  
  
She couldn't make that equate in her head. “But you've never...done anything with him. You've just been friends. So how could you be 'Colton-sexual?'”  
  
“Shit happens.” He scratched the back of his head with a shrug. “Things change.”  
  
She cycled through every memory she had of them on Idol. It took her by surprise when a few vividly stuck out: Colton showing Phil the proper way to headbang while they sang her BGVs for their trio, Phil teasingly petting Colton's floppy hair when his head was in Phil's lap, how close they'd have their heads together if they ever had to share a piece of music for a group rehearsal and one of them (read, Phil) lost their copy. No. Maybe it wasn't as surprising as she thought it was.  
  
Elise watched Phil carefully as he thought, tilting her head to the side. “This might sound awful, but I'm kind of surprised you're so cool with this.”  
  
He quirked a brow as he looked at her again. “Huh?”  
  
She took a moment to try to tactfully place her thoughts. “You're from a tiny Southern town in the Bible Belt.” She shrugged. “Thought that might have...meant something.”  
  
A small smile came to his lips. “Yeah, well...I didn't wanna be like that. And, uh...maybe I met some people that made my mind up about it.” But just as quickly the smile melted away. “Wait, no, I'm not 'cool' with this. I'm cool with me. But I'm _not_ cool about what it might've done to Colton.”  
  
“Maybe he's cool with it too.”  
  
“Elise, he hasn't come out of his room all day.”  
  
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “It was worth the wishful thinking,” she muttered.  
  
“Somebody's gotta talk to him.”  
  
“Yeah, but which one of us?”  
  
Phil snorted. “You're not the predator here.”  
  
“ _Predator?_ ”  
  
“You know what I mean. We know the kid's straight. No gay guy looks at a girl like he looked at you last night. So if there's any mental scarring it's probably my fault.”  
  
She peeked out from behind her hands with a frown. “You still sound...incredibly calm about this.”  
  
“What? A man can't be calm about something? I mean, my life got turned upside-down the day I won Idol. I think I'm good at adjusting to shit like this by now.”  
  
Something felt off. She felt that coldness stirring in her stomach again. She stood up, the neck of her bathrobe parting slightly, and made her way around the table.  
  
Phil leaned back a little in his chair, frowning, flicking his eyes over her cautiously. “What're you doing?”  
  
She didn't reply. She touched a hand to the back of his chair and leaned down, looking from his eyes to his lips.  
  
“Elise?” he whispered. His hands fisted in his jeans.  
  
She hesitated, rolling the thoughts over in her head, before she leaned in. She watched the way his eyes slid shut, heard his soft sigh...and smelled the alcohol on his breath.  
  
“A little early for a shot, isn't it, Phil?” she asked quietly, lingering an inch away from his lips.  
  
His eyes flew open. There was a bleariness in them as he considered her, but it couldn't hide the guilt she saw tucked just behind it.  
  
She shook her head. “Well-adjusted, huh?”  
  
He didn't try to defend himself. He didn't try to make excuses. He simply sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “...that's why I can't talk to him. I don't...know what I'd do.”  
  
“...You wanna kiss him again.”  
  
“I don't know.” He came to his feet suddenly, and Elise jumped back to avoid bumping into him. “I-I don't have a goddamn clue. Some of it's simple, and some of it's confusing as hell.” He began to pace, and Elise could almost see the tension flaking off of him. “All I know...is I'd screw it up. I'd screw _him_ up. And I'm tired of doing that.”  
  
The urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him was so strong that she had to cross them over her chest. She bit her bottom lip. “...so you think I'd do it right.”  
  
“I know you would.”  
  
How little he knew. “Think we should give him a day or two?”  
  
Phil leaned against the table, his hands curling into slow fists against the wood. “...I don't know. I-I know we need to be careful, I know that, but what if...leaving him alone just makes him beat himself up? He's fragile right now, Elise. He's blaming himself for his sister, he's throwing up a big middle finger to his God, and...that's dangerous.”  
  
“You think he'll try something?” she asked, touching a hand to her stomach to try to slow the fear that was building there.  
  
He dipped his head. “...any other day, I'd say no, definitely not. But if he doesn't have his faith...I don't know if I know him under that. I don't know who he is without a crucifix on. And that scares me.”  
  
She nodded. “I'll talk to him now. You gonna be okay?”  
  
Phil looked up at her. But as he opened his mouth his eyes focused beyond her, and she felt a fizzy sensation explode inside of her. Before she even looked over her shoulder, she knew she'd see Colton in the doorway.  
  
Elise swallowed as she turned to face him, her hands fluttering nervously around her hips. “...how long have you been standing there?”  
  
Colton stared at them both. And then he lifted his chin in what Elise read as a certain degree of faked strength. “Long enough.”  
  
Phil quietly cursed behind her. Elise took a step back to touch a hand to his shoulder as he sank into his chair again.  
  
Colton flicked his eyes from one to the other, slowly tilting his head to the side. “You wanna talk to me? I'm here, aren't I?”


	17. Chapter 17

Things were different now. Before, Phil could look at Colton and see a tall, skinny, well-adjusted straight-edge kid that he loved to death. But now everything about him had a different meaning. Colton was just tall enough that he'd have to dip his head to kiss Phil. He was slender, but that just meant that his muscles were well-defined, his fingers long and deft. Well-adjustment had flown out the window, replaced with a dark sort of desperation in his eyes that made Phil want to step up and block anything else that might come flying at him. And straight-edge? Phil'd heard him curse. He'd watched him drink. And he'd felt sensual passion rolling off him like waves, even if Colton himself didn't quite know how to deal with it. All he needed was a blunt, and he'd have thrown that entire persona out the window.  
  
Now that things were different, Phil didn't just love this kid to death. It wasn't just a warmth inside him, a smile on his lips when he thought of their antics, a need to protect him. It was a fire being stoked in his belly. It was a sudden curiosity about the strength of his hands, the shape of his lips, and the feel of his body. Not necessarily a lust, not yet...just an interest, a wonder, a fascination.  
  
Phil wasn't sure how he liked that.  
  
He watched Colton enter the dining room and shut the door quietly behind him before leaning against it. He was wearing a t-shirt with a black vest and a pair of jeans, and his hair was still damp from a shower. Phil felt his breath catch in his chest, and he looked away to try to sort through his thoughts.  
  
He'd woken up today and decided that maybe a quick shot of whiskey could help him stay calm, better enable him to work through the memories of the night before. Now he realized all it was going to do was make him wonder at the shape of Colton under his jeans. Perfect. He rubbed his eyes and waited for Elise to take it away.  
  
She didn't disappoint him. “How're you feeling, Colton?”  
  
There was a rustling, maybe the sound of a shrug. “Headache. Bright lights kind of suck.”  
  
“Ooh. I didn't know you got that dr...” Elise trailed off, and the air filled with awkwardness.  
  
There was a heavy moment of silence, one that pressed down on Phil like an enormous weight, before he heard Colton sigh. “You know what I realized this morning?” he asked.  
  
“What?” Elise replied.  
  
“How tired I am of people tiptoeing around me.”  
  
Phil opened his eyes and dropped his hand to the table.  
  
“People are scared to bring up my sister and the fact that she could die. They're scared to bring up my music career, since it's going down the tubes. They're scared to do anything but talk about God and hope and how everything's gonna be okay in the end.” Colton approached the table and leaned forward into it, his hands spreading wide across its surface. “...except for you two. Or so I thought.”  
  
Phil looked at Elise. She kept her eyes on Colton, her lips pulled into a thin line.  
  
Colton lifted a hand and pointed at them both, punctuating his words with sharp stabs of his finger. “You were the only two people I had that kept me sane during this whole thing. You stayed normal. You texted me like my life was still going on, like it wasn't going completely on hold for this...sick disease. You helped me hold it together. Without either of you, I would've snapped months ago. But last night...” He dragged his hand through his hair and began pacing with a soft groan. “You did what everybody else did. You tried to distract me. And that was bull.” He seemed to test the word on his lips before he shook his head and spoke with more vehemence. “It was Grade A bullshit.”  
  
Phil flinched. He was surprised that Elise didn't.  
  
“I counted on you both to stick through this with me, even if we were thousands of miles apart, even if we only talked once a month, even if our friendship was more in spirit and less in action, because after Idol and the Live tour, I knew we had something that wasn't going anywhere, even if it went cold when life caught up to us. I knew you'd both be at my wedding. I knew I'd be thanking you in my album notes. And then you...you let me down. You just tried to take everything away with a little alcohol and a little fun, and I-”  
  
“Colton, that's not what we were doing,” Elise interjected.  
  
He glared at her. “Do you have to interrupt me? Really?”  
  
She stood up a little straighter and held his eyes. “If you're talking like a crazy man? Yeah. Yeah, I do.”  
  
“Please, tell me how I'm crazy.” Colton's cheeks were flushing. His eyes were burning with anger. He was incredible, and Phil couldn't take his eyes off him. “Tell me how everything I just said was a complete misunderstanding.”  
  
Elise took a few steps toward him, and Phil watched as Colton's posture grew a little less assured, a little more afraid. “Look, you're right about some things. I came in there last night to distract you. I came in there to fix what was going on, because I was scared of what Phil was telling me. I was scared of what I saw. In that moment, with the vodka in your hand and your necklace in mine, I didn't know what to think of you. I didn't know what to do. So I just...tried to make it better.”  
  
“No, Elise-”  
  
“Let her finish,” Phil surprised himself by saying. Colton met his eyes for the first time since coming in the room, and Phil felt his mind go blank. “...please, Colt.”  
  
Colton kept his mouth shut. He looked back at Elise, and Phil could breathe again.  
  
Elise lifted her hand, as if she was about to reach for Colton, but she pulled it back and touched her fist to her lips for a moment instead. “...it started that way. But that wasn't how it stayed.” She shook her head, her messy curls bouncing around her face. “...I wanted to be with you, Colton. I don't make any apologies for that. We're both adults. We can figure things out. In that moment, right when I kissed you, it stopped being about fixing you and started being about _being_ with you. Human-to-human, mind-to-mind, body-to-body, not...mentor-to-protege or doctor-to-patient. Equals.”  
  
Colton looked away. His face was flaming again.  
  
“The only thing I'm sorry about...is that I took advantage of you being drunk. You didn't have any inhibitions, and I knew that, and I went along with it anyway, even though I could've stopped it.”  
  
“I wasn't that drunk,” Colton murmured.  
  
“Colton, trust me, you were plenty-”  
  
“I knew exactly what I was doing.” And then he seemed to hesitate, biting his bottom lip. “...okay, so maybe I didn't know what I was doing, not in terms of _experience_ , but I _did_ know where it was going. And I was okay with that. I wanted it too. I didn't even _know_ I wanted it until...”  
  
“...until?” Elise murmured.  
  
“...whatever was in that vodka, it unlocked something. I think I always knew it was there. I just...didn't know how to tap into it. And you helped. And for those minutes, it _did_ fix me. My mind was blown, Elise. I didn't think about anything else until I woke up this morning.”  
  
Phil looked from Colton to Elise, trying to read the nuances on their faces, but instead only seeing the pleased surprise on Elise's and the strange openness on Colton's. It took longer than it should have for Phil to realize why Colton seemed so eager to be open today. “Rock bottom,” he said softly.  
  
Colton looked at him quickly, but the look on his face didn't change. “What?”  
  
“I was...trying to figure out why you're okay with saying all this, why you're not nervous about it.” Phil lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “And it's because you hit rock bottom. There's nowhere else to fall, is there?”  
  
“...I think I hit it a long time ago,” Colton murmured. “But last night, for the first time in a while, I was on my feet again. And I liked that.”  
  
There was something under Colton's words, something in the warmth in his eyes. He didn't know how to transmit it as easily as Phil, but Phil saw it all the same. He hadn't just liked Elise. He'd liked something else too. Phil felt a buzz that radiated from his spine to his fingers and toes.  
  
Colton cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was just saying...you shouldn't feel bad or guilty or weird around me. Because even though I know that was a one-time thing, I needed it. I think I can...get through everything else now. So thanks.” He met their eyes one last time before he turned and left the dining room.  
  
A one-time thing. How was it supposed to be a one-time thing when Phil could still remember the taste of him, the brushing of his stubble against his upper lip as they'd come together, the electricity right under his hands as one buried itself in Colton's hair and the other palmed against the softness of Elise's breast? Was he just supposed to forget it?  
  
He heard Elise exhale slowly, and he looked up at her with a cocked brow. Her cheeks were flushed too. It looked like Colton had put her under some kind of spell with his eye contact alone. She stared at the door for a few seconds before she touched a hand to her hair. “...I'm gonna go take a shower before anybody else comes back.”  
  
His skin and his brain were so sensitized that the mere mental image of that made him curl his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He was so surprised by his body's sudden keening for Colton that he'd underestimated its simultaneous desire for Elise. He made himself hold his tongue until she'd left the room and let the door shut behind her, because he had a feeling that asking if she wanted him to join her and help relieve her sudden frustration wouldn't get him anywhere.  
  
Besides, there would be a selfishness in his asking. He wasn't looking just to help her. He was looking to help himself. Whether it was the alcohol sluicing through his brain or the buzzing in his limbs, there was something that was driving him to the point of distraction. His skin was burning. His bones were aching. And, whether he liked it or not, his mind was playing a projection screen full of every highlight from the night before.  
  
Elise wasn't the only one who needed some relief. And something told him that it wasn't just a world of two, not anymore.  
  
He felt remarkably lucid as he picked up the two full bowls of cereal and carried them to the kitchen, pouring them down the garbage disposal. He rinsed the bowls and left them in the sink until someone (read, Hollie) got annoyed enough to put them all in the dishwasher. And then he walked down the hallway. He paused beside his bedroom, looking straight out the window to the beach, where everyone was happily basking in the sun and surf. And then he let his legs carry him further.  
  
Colton's door was cracked, and when Phil peeked through it he saw the man sitting on his bed, an open book in his lap and a pencil in his hand. He didn't hesitate. He knocked gently on the door and let it swing open. When Colton met his eyes, Phil was gratified to see him drop the pencil to the floor. “Phil.”  
  
“Hey.” He draped himself against the doorframe and watched how Colton leaned down to grab the pencil. His hand was shaking just enough for Phil to notice it. “I wasn't sure we were done talking in there.”  
  
Colton glanced up at him. “You didn't do any of the talking as it is.”  
  
Phil slowly smiled, tucking one of his hands in his pockets. “I guess I didn't.” He tilted his head to the side and touched his temple to the doorframe. “I was too busy trying to figure you out.”  
  
“Yeah?” Colton tucked the pencil behind his ear. “What part of me?”  
  
“The part I kissed last night.”  
  
He'd never seen Colton flinch like that in his life. Colton looked down at his book so fast that Phil thought his neck might've snapped. “Do we have to talk about that?” he asked softly, fidgeting with the pages.  
  
He chuckled. “You and Elise...are so similar in so many ways. It's hilarious.”  
  
Colton didn't speak again. He pretended to be reading his book, his finger following a line on the page. It only made Phil feel more amused.  
  
He considered his actions for a moment before he reached for the door and quietly shut it behind him. He kept his eyes on Colton, and watched the way his finger froze in place when Phil clicked the lock on the door. “We need to talk, Colton.”  
  
Colton hesitated. And then he closed the book and set it aside. His fingers immediately went to tangling in his sheets. “Then why does the door have to be locked?”  
  
“Because I don't want anyone bursting in in the middle of our discussion.” He could see it now, Heejun flinging the door open and throwing himself on the bed, still dripping wet from the ocean. No, with Phil's luck, Heejun would be missing his glasses and would land on the floor instead, and they'd all have to take him to the hospital. Not exactly his idea of a good time. “Why? Do you want the door unlocked?”  
  
When Colton looked at the door, Phil focused on his eyes. They reminded him of the look in a turkey's eyes right before he lifted his gun and shot it. He knew he was prey. The question was how he felt about it. “...I don't know.”  
  
“Good. You're still honest. I was worried that'd go away when you left the dining room.” Phil sauntered across the room and sat on the other end of Colton's bed. “And that would've made this whole talk just a little harder.”  
  
“Why do we even need to talk about it?” Colton spread his arms wide, but he still wouldn't meet Phil's eyes again. “We were drunk. We kissed. That's like College 101, isn't it?”  
  
Phil chuckled. “I don't know what colleges _you_ were planning on applying to, but that's not how it went down back at Albany Tech. Not a chance.”  
  
Colton sighed quickly and impatiently, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair. His fauxhawk flopped over. “It's still the alcohol's fault.”  
  
“Was it?”  
  
Colton finally looked at him. “...well, yeah.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, you can't honestly believe we'd do that when we were sober.”  
  
Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Then why're you turning red?”  
  
He frowned, eyes flicking to the side. “Because this whole conversation's awkward.”  
  
“Huh.” Phil leaned over just enough to catch Colton's eyes again. “So you believe to the core of who you are that you'd never have done that if you hadn't been drunk.”  
  
“Duh.” Colton forced a laugh. “I'm not gay, dude.”  
  
He leaned forward suddenly, reaching a hand out to wrap around the back of Colton's neck. “Neither am I,” he breathed, and then he pressed his lips against Colton's.  
  
It was a different thing kissing a guy. His lips weren't as soft as, say, Hannah's. He didn't smell like perfume nor did he taste like lip gloss. There was a bit of roughness as their stubble brushed against each other's, and the hair trapped under his hand was short, buzzed down. And Colton didn't melt like Elise did. There was strength there, not softness.  
  
It was one of the most intoxicating things that Phil had ever experienced.  
  
Phil was the one who broke the kiss only moments after he initiated it. He stayed close, breathing Colton's air, watching his closed eyes. He waited for Colton to open them, confusion radiating from every part of his face, before he spoke again. “Did you like that?”  
  
Colton wrinkled his brow. He didn't lean away either. It was as if he was tethered there by more than Phil's hand. “...what's happening, Phil?” he whispered.  
  
“I don't know,” he whispered back. “But I want to find out more.”  
  
That was when Colton jerked away from him, scrambling to the very edge of the bed. “No, we're not finding anything else out. We're not.”  
  
“Why not?” Phil asked. He grabbed fistfuls of the sheets to remind himself to stay put, to keep from going after him for another kiss. “What're you so scared of?”  
  
“I'm scared of _you_ , Phil.” This time when Colton met his eyes the confusion was melting into frustration, maybe even a touch of tears. “You don't make sense sometimes. You're a good man, but you've got this...this rough, aggressive side. I saw it come out last night. You took _control_ of Elise. You got her off way more than I did just because of how forward you were.” He was shaking his head as he came to his feet, his hands shaking all over again. “When you want something, you reach out and take it, and you do it more for yourself than anybody else. You're more interested in making _yourself_ feel good.”  
  
Phil felt his entire face contorting into a scowl and a glare, but he kept himself still. “That's bullshit.”  
  
“Is it?” Colton laughed again, but this one was bitter, maybe even hysterical. “Is it really? Are you that blind?”  
  
“No, I just think you're seeing something that isn't even there,” Phil pressed. He came to his feet and curled his hands into fists against his thighs.  
  
“Everything is for you, Phil. _Everything!_ You don't do something without figuring out what it means for you first!” Colton dragged his hands through his hair so forcefully that Phil was shocked he didn't rip any of it out. “You know, I saw the way you looked when I got eliminated on Idol? You weren't upset because of the opportunity I was losing out on. You were upset because you were losing me. And that's the whole reason you slept with Elise in the first place, isn't it? Because you couldn't handle the fact that I was gone! _Not_ because you actually cared about her more than Hannah, but because you knew you were gonna be _lonely!_ ”  
  
“You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Colt.” He was trying to warn him, but Colton didn't want to take the bait.  
  
“I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. And that means you're the kind of guy I would never want to get involved with, even if I _was_ interested.”  
  
Phil's first reaction was to take a step forward, but he stopped himself there. He held his ground. He gritted his teeth. And he breathed. Because there were only so many words he could take before he lost it and did a hell of a lot of things he didn't mean to. He held Colton's eyes. He held them firmly. And then he spoke. “Are you a liar, Colton?”  
  
Colton scowled. “No.”  
  
“Then I'm gonna ask you some questions. And you better be honest, 'cuz I'm gonna know if you're not.”  
  
The scowl grew less certain. He took a step back before tucking his hands in his pockets, trying to look cool and unconcerned. “Fine. Go ahead.”  
  
Phil held up one finger. “Did you like kissing me?” When Colton looked away, Phil shook his head. “Uh-uh, no, look at me. Don't try to get out of this. Did. You like. Kissing me?”  
  
Colton snapped his eyes back up to meet Phil's. “...yes.”  
  
He held up a second finger. “Did you want me to stop last night?”  
  
He tightened his jaw. “No.”  
  
“And when it comes right down to it, if I walked out of this room right now and gave you all the space in the world and never talked to you about what happened again, would you be happy? Would you really be satisfied that you'd done the right thing?”  
  
The air was so thick with tension that Phil thought he could bite a chunk out of it. But after a few long seconds of punishing silence, Colton sucked in a heavy breath. “I don't know.”  
  
“That's not an answer, Colt.”  
  
“Well, it's the only one you're gonna get out of me.” He didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded tired. He sounded like he was going to break at any second. He leaned against the door and covered his face with his hands, stifling a groan. “You don't get it, do you, Phil? Even right now it's all about you.”  
  
The fight was dripping out of Phil. He was exhausted, tired of wanting, tired of needing. He wanted to be in control of something, even if it was just himself. He took another few steps forward. “Talk to me.”  
  
“There's nothing to talk about.”  
  
“Says the guy hiding behind his hands.”  
  
“I have to. I can't look at you.”  
  
“What's so wrong with looking at me?”  
  
“Because I...” Colton sucked in a shaky breath, and Phil felt alarmed at the fact that he might have made the other man cry. “...Phil, when I look at you, I want things. I want _so freaking much_. And it doesn't make sense, none of it. It just...”  
  
Phil shoved his hands into his pockets, as if they were weights keeping himself glued to the floor. “Just tell me, Colton. Tell me what you want.”  
  
When Colton dropped his hands, eyes focused as far from Phil as they could go, two tears dripped down his cheeks. “I can't explain it. I just...I wanna sing with you. I wanna go swimming with you in the ocean. I wanna sit upstairs by the fire and collab on a song with you and play video games and go get some beers. I want you to be my best friend, you know? But that's not all. It never is.” He thudded his head back against the door and sniffled, trying to ignore his tears, trying to be stronger than Phil knew he was. “I think about...kissing you. And how good it felt. Jesus, Phil, it felt better than _music_.”  
  
Phil's entire body thrummed. He couldn't keep himself glued anymore. He just couldn't. He took a few steps forward, his heart racing. “Better than strumming a guitar...”  
  
“Or playing a piano...”  
  
“...feeling the strings give under your pick...”  
  
“...feeling the weight of the keys under your fingers...  
  
“...and the vibrations that shake you to the ground.”  
  
“...that make your whole body shiver until there's nothing left.”  
  
His pulse was pounding just behind his ears. “Then why are you hiding from it when you want it so bad?”  
  
“Because I...” Colton closed his eyes, squinting them shut so tightly that more tears dripped from them. “...I don't know if my body can take it.”  
  
“So if I left...you'd still wanna feel that burn, even though it scares you shitless?”  
  
He exhaled, slow and loud. He curled his hands into slow fists. And then he opened his damp eyes, his eyelashes glued together in small brown triangles. “Yes.”  
  
“And you'd hate yourself for missing it?”  
  
He nodded. “Yes, I would.”  
  
Phil reached out and touched his hands to Colton's shoulders, pressing him gently against his door. “Colt, listen to me,” he whispered. “If you tell me to walk right out that door right now, I will. I promise. I won't make you feel guilty, I won't complain, I won't do anything. I'll just _leave_.” He leaned closer. “Because I'm not in this just to get off. I'm in this because last night was just a taste of what could happen. And I wanna make you feel so good you can't stand it.”  
  
Colton was breathing harder now, his shoulders lifting and dropping under Phil's hands, but he couldn't speak. He stared at Phil, and Phil watched his pupils slowly dilate.  
  
“I wanna know if I can make your toes curl, boy,” he murmured. “So tell me what you want.”  
  
Colton shook his head. “Don't go.”  
  
“Yeah?” Phil cocked a brow again. “Tell me to stay. I gotta hear you say it.”  
  
Colton reached up and grabbed Phil's wrist, squeezing it. “Stay. Please stay.”  
  
“That's what I like to hear.” He didn't even have to think about what he wanted to do to the kid. He flicked his eyes downward before wrapping his fingers around Colton's belt buckle. “You with me here, Colt?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he murmured, the sound nearly buried in his thick breathing.  
  
“You just tell me to stop if it's too much.”  
  
“I-I will.” Colton touched his other hand to Phil's shoulder as if he was afraid of his legs giving out under him.  
  
“Good man.” Phil tugged the belt from Colton's jeans and tossed it onto his bed. He looked up at Colton's eyes again, but they were fastened on Phil's hands where they rested against Colton's jagged hipbones. He felt a surge of power, but he shoved it back, trying to focus on Colton, trying to take his pleasure from his flushed cheeks and his parted lips, not from being in control. He reached for Colton's zipper, suddenly aware of the thick bulge in his pants. “You're ready for me, ain't you?”  
  
Colton groaned softly in response. That was all Phil needed to hear to make his blood boil. He eased the zipper down before he reached for Colton's belt loops and pulled downward.  
  
He underestimated the staying power of skinny jeans.  
  
Phil furrowed his eyebrows as he gave another tug, but the damn thing stayed put. “What the hell are you wearing, Dixon?” he asked softly, tilting his head to the side.  
  
“Uh...they, uh...it's hard to find pants in my size, s-so I have to wear girl pants, and-”  
  
“And they're tight as _fuck_.” Phil scowled. He finally got them loosened and on their way down, exposing colorful Batman boxers that really should have been embarrassing in this situation but that Phil couldn't find it in his heart to laugh at. Truth be told, he hadn't really expected Colton to be wearing anything but. “No wonder Elise went after you like a bat out of hell. She could tell exactly what you were packing in pants like that.”  
  
Colton laughed, but the second Phil wrapped his hand around his cock his laugh morphed into a strangled gasp. He dropped his head back and drove his hands into Phil's shoulders, squeezing for dear life. “Holy...”  
  
Phil felt the lazy smirk stretch across his lips more than he planned for it to. The feel of Colton in his hand was... _different._ Phil'd gotten himself off enough times to know what a dick felt like in his hand, but this was new. This was _Colton_. He was thicker. There was a heat coming off of him that was similar to Phil, yeah, but not exactly the same. The very energy around them felt different. Phil slid his hand all the way up the shaft and brushed his thumb over the tip, watching the way that Colton bit his bottom lip to stifle a cry.  
  
In that second, Phil knew what he wanted. He knew what he wanted to do to Colton, and there didn't seem to be any other choice. He came down to his knees, his eyes focusing intently. He'd never done this before. But he'd had it done to him enough times from Hannah that he knew exactly what drove a man insane. He licked his lips, leaned in, and gave himself up to the heady feeling of power.


	18. Chapter 18

Phil'd given him a blowjob.  
  
Phillip Phillips had given Colton Dixon a blowjob.  
  
And, what's more, Colton Dixon had _liked_ it!  
  
Colton exhaled sharply where he sat on the edge of his bed, his legs still shaking, his heart still pounding, and stared blankly at the floor, trying to make sense of his world. It wasn't easy anymore.  
  
Phil hadn't stayed long. He'd sucked Colton to completion – it hadn't taken long at all, embarrassingly enough – and, at the last second, he'd pulled back and let Colton come all over his shirt.  
  
...that, too, had been a little embarrassing, to be honest. He could still hear the way Phil had laughed at just how much semen there'd been. “Like a damn fire hose you can't turn off,” he'd said as he removed his shirt and rolled it into a ball, and Colton had buried his face in his hands and groaned in mortification.  
  
He'd stayed long enough to settle Colton down on his bed, where Colton had tucked his sensitive self back into his boxers, and touch his hair affectionately before he'd murmured that they needed to think and taken himself away again. Colton, meanwhile, was trying to figure out if he was being punished.  
  
He'd kissed girls. He'd made out with girls. But that right there had been his first sexual experience, all things considered, and he'd never really imagined he'd be spending the afterglow alone in confusion.  
  
He fell back on his bed and touched his fist to his lips. He remembered how swollen they'd felt last night, when he'd basked in those sensations for hours. He'd thought that if they'd ever let themselves go again, his lips would feel the same: chapped, thick, maybe sore to the touch. He hadn't pictured them as smooth, soft, unkissed and begging for attention. This whole damn thing had started because Phil had kissed him in the first place. Was it too much to ask for a little more of that?  
  
Colton rolled his head to the side and stared out the window. He was being a girl and he knew it. He snorted in a quiet touch of cynicism. Fancy him being a 'bottom,' so to speak. He'd always imagined himself being a little more powerful in sexual situations, not being the kid who was pushed around. And here he was with swollen eyes from crying and a sore penis from sucking, which still thrummed with pleasure every time he so much as shifted, and he'd done absolutely nothing for Phil in return.  
  
He didn't want to think about that part too deeply, especially if Phil hadn't _wanted_ anything in return.  
  
He heard the distant sound of the back door opening and the wave of voices coming back in from the beach, and he instinctively came to his feet and began to pull on his jeans with aching muscles and a dizzy head. He thought of the way that Phil had locked the door, had known exactly what he'd come into the room for in the first place, and that made his head swim a little more.  
  
He'd planned it all, hadn't he? Every step of it. He'd known exactly how to get Colton to give into him.  
  
Colton couldn't figure out if that made him angry or not. He'd enjoyed it. If someone asked him right now point-blank, he'd say he wouldn't give that experience up. But the thought that Phil might have orchestrated all of it just made him uncomfortable and confused.  
  
He was tired of being confused.  
  
He tallied his options: he could hide in his room all day and pretend it never happened, or he could go out and socialize and pretend it never happened. Phil was off-limits. He felt a distinct need to talk to Elise, but how was he going to do that? How could he tell her that Phil had just waltzed in here and given him a blowjob like that? The very thought made him wince. No, he needed to stay away from her too. He needed to surround himself with normal people, like Skylar and Hollie, and wait for the discomfort to pass.  
  
But what if the sun set and the moon rose and a knock came at Colton's bedroom door? What if Phil came back for more?  
  
His thoughts were making him reel. As he fastened his belt, he fought to shove them to the back of his mind, where they couldn't hurt anybody, and there they would stay.  
  
He felt a lump press against his thigh once his belt was secure, and he glanced down with a frown. Awareness hit him in a second. His phone. He pulled it from his pocket and let the screen light up, Text messages, one from almost every single member of his young adult group at church. It took him a long few moments to remember it was Wednesday, and that many of them would be in their leadership meeting before the Wednesday night church meal would start, followed by the lessons and what not. He let his thumb hover over the screen for a few long moments before he let it die without reading any of the texts.  
  
He felt like a pet project to them, like one of them had had the idea to send him an encouraging text and had badgered everybody else until they did the same. They were wasting unnecessary energy praying for him when they could be channeling it all to Schyler instead. Didn't they realize that?  
  
How would they feel if they'd known that he'd called God a bastard only the night before? That he still felt a simmering anger in the depths of him that refused to acknowledge Him as anything other than a smug power-player? That the whole reason he'd missed their texts was because he'd been getting head from the man most of them had voted for after he'd been kicked off Idol?  
  
He felt absently for his necklace before realizing that it wouldn't be there. He didn't know where it was, actually. He remembered ripping it off the night before and throwing it, but other than Phil picking it up and Elise acknowledging it today, he didn't have a clue where it might've ended up. Well, good. Good riddance to bad rubbish. He didn't want to see the dang thing ever again.  
  
He looked in the mirror to adjust his shirt and vest and caught sight of the dark markings snaking over his bicep. His tattoo. His Joshua tree. That was harder to ignore. That was harder to get out-of-sight-out-of-mind. He let his fingers tighten around his vest for a long moment before ripping it off of him and throwing it aside. He felt around in his suitcase for a black, long-sleeved hoodie, made out of thin material, before pulling it on instead. There. Better. He could almost pretend he was someone other than Colton Dixon this way. Someone who was different. Someone who had his life together.  
  
Who was he kidding, really?  
  
He opened his door and peeked outside, looking both ways down the hallway, before emerging. He crept quiet and unseen to the staircase at the far end of the hallway, where he'd only been once the second he arrived. His bare feet sank into the plush carpeting covering each step, making him feel far sneakier than he was, and rounded the corner at the top into an enormous great room. It was decked out with every young adult's dream, whatever it might be, from a thickly-lined bookshelf on one wall to an enormous TV facing a wide couch to a small kitchen and card table to the side.  
  
Colton let the bookshelf draw him in first. He came face-to-face with the spines of the books, his eyebrows furrowed, but even as his eyes drifted along the titles he discovered he wasn't really reading all of them. They were blurring together. It was a sure sign that focus was still impossible for him, that he was still floating in a bizarre headspace, and he wasn't sure how he liked that.  
  
He reached out and picked a book at random. It was thick and the binding was leather under his fingertips. But as he pulled it out, his heart leaped into his throat, and he dropped it on the floor and jumped back as if it was a snake.  
  
He wasn't ready to see a Bible just yet. So why had his fingers jumped to it like that?  
  
He craned his neck back and stared at the vaulted ceiling, feeling his heart pounding and his throat growing raw and sore. When nothing happened – no flashing lights, no thunderclap – he pointed straight at the sky. “You're not funny,” Colton murmured through thin lips and gritted teeth. “Okay? I'm done. I'm done with it, and I'm done with _You._ So stay the heck...the _hell_...out of my life.” He wanted to be immature. He wanted to pick up the Bible and throw it across the room, maybe even kick it, but when he drew his foot back he froze in place.  
  
He felt his leg begin to shake. His hands curled into fists. He stopped breathing.  
  
“...for God's sake.” Colton whirled around and shoved his hands into his pockets, storming toward the couch. He flopped onto it and threw his arm over his eyes. Tears welled up and dampened his wrist.  
  
  
~  
  
  
“You're hiding.”  
  
Elise peeked up from her magazine. “Am not.”  
  
Phil grinned. “Are too.”  
  
“Am not!”  
  
“Are too!” He nudged the bedroom door further open with his foot and entered the room. “And I, uh, suggest you let it go, 'cuz you know how stubborn I am.”  
  
“How could I forget,” she murmured dryly. She brushed a few pieces of stray curly hair away from her eyes as she looked back down at the colorful pages. “What do you want, Phil?”  
  
“Can't I just come see you every once and a while?”  
  
“Not when you look like that.”  
  
“Like what?” he asked, a chuckle on his voice.  
  
Elise turned a page. “Like the cat that ate the canary.”  
  
“Elise. I'm hurt.”  
   
“Wounded, even?” she asked, her voice even dryer.  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
She could hear that he was still smiling. That made her nervous. Even though she wasn't registering a single word on the pages in front of her, she turned another. “Are we having another pep talk or something? Rallying the troops before we attack Colton?”  
  
“Nah, we...we don't need to do that.”  
  
Shit. It was worse than she thought. Elise couldn't risk looking up at him fully for a moment. “You're just gonna let it go? Like that? Are you sick?”  
  
Phil looked away with a vibrant grin, brushing one of his hands through his hair. “I'm feeling pretty good, actually.”  
  
He'd done something. He had. Elise slowly closed the magazine and set it aside. Now, she could jump. She could ask him right out and face that lethal stubbornness that he had. Or she could try to feign disinterest until he talked. She considered. She grabbed a chapstick and applied it and rubbed her lips together, her eyes studying the ingredients on the label. “I'm thinking about going swimming later,” she murmured.  
  
“Yeah? The surf looks pretty good out there.”  
  
“Maybe I'll build a sandcastle or something. It'll be fun. Erika and I can have a contest.”  
  
“There's no question that you'd win, of course.”  
  
“I'll let Heejun pose for a sand sculpture. It'll be world famous. It'll be my album artwork for my debut.”  
  
“Hell, it can't be uglier than half the ones out there right now.”  
  
“Ouch. I'll have you know that Heejun's adorable.”  
  
“He's all right.”  
  
Elise rooted through her purse until she found a nail file. She filed. She'd worked on two nails when Phil tapped the door shut with his toes. She pretended not to notice.  
  
“...I gave Colton a blowjob.”  
  
She sliced an unattractive slant into her nail. Elise let Phil's words echo around her head before she looked up at him, eyes open so wide that they were aching. “Excuse me?”  
  
Phil was laying back on Erika's bed, kicking his feet, his arms tucked under his neck. He glanced at her with his ever-present grin. “I gave him a blowjob.”  
  
The file fell to the floor. “You did _what?_ ”  
  
“Jesus, woman, are you deaf? I gave him head! Sucked him off!”  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?!”  
  
Phil sat up, his grin faltering. “I was thinking I wanted to? What's wrong with you? I thought you'd wanna know about it.”  
  
Elise slid to the edge of the bed. “This isn't summer camp, Phil! We're not gossiping about someone we barely know! This is _Colton_ , and you're...you're _you_ , and you gave him a _blowjob?!_ ”  
  
“Yeah!” Phil leaned forward as his eyes grew heated and angry. “Yeah, I fucking gave him a blowjob, and guess what, Elise? He _loved_ it. He came all over me.”  
  
“Holy...” She dragged her hands through her hair, exhaling sharply. “I...Phil, I don't even know what to say.”  
  
“You can stop acting like such a prude, to start with-”  
  
“His _sister_ is _dying_ of _cancer!_ ” she bellowed as she flew to her feet.  
  
Phil came right up with her. “And how the hell does that make him less than a man?!”  
  
“You're right, Phil, he _is_ a man! Who, as far as we know, until last night was a perfectly _straight_ man without any interest in dudes, and-”  
  
“And who welcomed everything I did,” Phil hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest with every word.  
  
“How the hell do you know?” She walked forward until she was chest-to-chest with him, the urge to slap the hell out of him almost impossible to resist. “How do _I_ know you didn't push him into something he didn't want?”  
  
“Oh, just because you're jealous you didn't get to him first-”  
  
“How dare you!”  
  
“No, shut up!” Phil reached out and shoved her, and she stumbled back to sit on the edge of her bed again. “Shut up and listen.” He leaned in, his face tight, his features pinched, and growled out his words. “You want him. I know you do. I know you went straight to that shower after we all talked and rubbed one out.” Her cheeks flushed a vibrant red. “Maybe you didn't _know_ you wanted him. Maybe last night just made something inside you snap. But guess what? I wanted him too. And he wants _both_ of us. You can see it in his eyes.” Phil shook his head, slashing his hand down toward the ground. “So don't take this out on me just 'cuz I moved faster than you and got what I wanted.”  
  
She was shaking. She didn't know if it was from frustration, embarrassment, or fear of Phil, but she couldn't stop shaking.  
  
Phil was shaking too, she realized, down to a tiny tic in his jaw. He leaned back again, giving her some healthy breathing room, and slowly exhaled. “...you were the first one I wanted to tell.”  
  
“You wanted to rub it in my face?” she snapped.  
  
“No. _Fuck_ , no. I wanted to tell you because...” His words trailed off. His eyes grew jittery, dancing from her face to the wall to the bed and beyond. “...because I...”  
  
Elise watched him. She watched numerous expressions play across his face, all ones that she couldn't read, but all that served to build a heavy tension around him. She could feel it. He was releasing it all into the air like pheromones. “...Phil?”  
  
He snapped his gaze back to hers. “I don't like fighting with you.”  
  
She was still angry, yes, but she felt it soften inside of her. With each passing second, she realized it was less anger and more disappointment. That didn't sit well with her. “I don't like it either.”  
  
“I just thought you'd understand. I thought you'd get it and you wouldn't...look at me sideways.”  
  
“I'll never do that,” she murmured.  
  
Phil looked away. He ground his teeth together.  
  
Elise breathed in what she hoped would become strength. “...he liked it?”  
  
Phil coughed out a surprised laugh. “...yeah. Yeah, he did.”  
  
Elise nodded slowly. She folded her hands in her lap. “I'm happy for you.”  
  
Phil met her eyes again. He stared at her for a few long moments. “...thanks.”  
  
“I really am.”  
  
“No, I know. And I'm serious. Thanks.”  
  
“You're welcome.”  
  
There were other things she wanted to ask. How would this change things between them? Would he do it again? Did he actually want a...a _relationship_ with Colton, or was this just a fling? Was Colton okay? Was he gay now? Did it matter as long as he was happy? _Was_ he happy? But beneath it all, there was one question that she absolutely wouldn't give voice to. She couldn't even form the words to say it. Not for Phil's sake...but for hers.  
  
There was some noise in the hallway, and both of them looked at the door when it opened to reveal Heejun. “Dude and dudette, yo, we got bowling to do!”  
  
“Bowling?” Phil chuckled. “When'd ya'll decide this?”  
  
“Like thirty years ago. Geez, Phil, keep up with the times.” Heejun rolled his eyes. “There's a bowling alley like five miles away, not even, and the girls wanna hit it up. You guys need to come.”  
  
“The girls?” Elise tilted her head to the side. “What about Colton?”  
  
Heejun shrugged. “Kid's upstairs. Says he's still feeling a little crummy, just wants to bum around and watch a movie, but he wants us to go.”  
  
Her breath caught in her chest. She looked down at the floor for a moment, biting her bottom lip in thought.  
  
Phil seemed to notice. “Yeah, go on, Heejun. I just gotta pee and I'll be out.”  
  
Elise hesitated. “...me too. You guys just get ready. I'll be right there.”  
  
“Yeeeeaaaah!” Heejun threw his arms over his head. “We can be Team PEH!”  
  
“Work on the team name while you're at it,” Phil called as Heejun went running down the hallway.  
  
There were a few seconds of silence before Elise looked up and found Phil still watching her. “You okay?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm great.” She forced another smile. “You go ahead with them. I'll catch up in a sec.”  
  
“All right. If you say so.” Phil reached out and plucked a curl between his fingers, giving it an affectionate tug that made her tummy flip. “Don't take too long.”  
  
“I won't.”  
  
After Phil left the room, Elise let the thoughts roll over in her head. Questions. So many questions. Was Phil happy? Was Colton happy?  
  
...did either of them need her now?  
  
That thought terrified her. She shivered suddenly and violently before she came to her feet and stumbled toward her purse. She pawed through it, throwing things this way and that, before finding exactly what she was looking for.  
  
They needed her. They had to need her. Or maybe...only one of them needed to.  
  
Elise studied the condom between her awkwardly filed nails for a long moment before she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. She peeked under her sweater and under her waistband to make sure she was matching. She tried to remember if she'd applied lotion after shaving in the shower. She studied herself long and hard in the mirror.  
  
Only when she was absolutely perfect did she come into the hallway and made her way to the stairs at the end of the hall.  
  
~~~  
  
Phil stared at Elise as she climbed the stairs. He felt something uneasy moving through him, though he couldn't say exactly why. There was no reason for it. She was doing exactly what he thought she would.  
  
Something told him she wasn't going bowling tonight.  
  
Heejun appeared beside him. “Where's she going?”  
  
Phil couldn't help but frown a little deeper. “Checking on Colton.”  
  
Heejun sighed in silly exasperation. “Well, she's holding up the crew! We gotta get a good lane! I'm gonna go get her.”  
  
Phil threw out an arm and caught Heejun around the chest. “Naw, it's cool. She said she...wanted to stick around. Make sure he didn't need anything.”  
  
“The kid's not exactly dying of Ebola AIDS or something.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you know Elise. Always gotta be taking care of somebody.”  
  
Heejun blinked behind his glasses. “You okay, man?”  
  
Phil flinched. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.” He smiled. “C'mon, let's go. We can do Girls versus Guys.”  
  
“Oh man, we're gonna _kill_ them.”  
  
“Hell yeah, we are!”  
  
As the two bros went toward the living room, Phil glanced toward the ceiling. _Don't screw this up, Elise._


	19. Chapter 19

“Well, I see he didn't bang you up too much.”  
  
Colton started, coming up onto his arms from laying. “Elise!”  
  
She smiled as she finished scaling the stairs. “This where all the cool kids go?”  
  
He blinked. “The, uh...the ones that don't bowl, I guess.”  
  
“I should've figured.” She seemed to pause for a few moments before closing the door at the top of the stairs. If it had been Phil it would have made him nervous, but this was _Elise_. She was about as scary as cream cheese. “Heejun said you were sick. I wanted to check on you.”  
  
“Well, you know...I just didn't feel like going out tonight.”  
  
“Guess not.” Her eyes were sliding across the floor, and Colton felt his mouth grow dry when he realized she'd see the Bible. “You're lying now. That's new.”  
  
He shrugged. “Everybody lies.”  
  
“Yeah, but not you.”  
  
“I'm a body. That means I'm part of the everybody.”  
  
“Huh.” Elise tapped her finger against her thigh. “Guess that means my plans to make you some magical chicken soup are pretty much ruined.”  
  
He smiled despite himself. “I can still eat.”  
  
“No no, you lost your chance. Sorry, sweetheart,” she said with a smirk.  
  
That smirk gave him pause. He felt his cheeks begin to flush. Cream cheese was a little more dangerous than he initially thought.  
  
Elise craned her neck. “You always take up the whole couch when you sit down?”  
  
He scrambled to sit up. “Sorry.”  
  
“I'm just teasing you, Colton. You don't have to apologize.” She crossed the room and plopped down next to him. When she reached up to run her fingers through her hair and nudge it over her shoulder, it released a whiff of lilacs into the air. It took him a few moments to realize he was staring at her, but thankfully she didn't seem to notice either that or his embarrassment. “...Phil came to see me a few minutes ago.”  
  
His heart stopped clean in his chest. “...oh, really?”  
  
“Mm-hmm.” She tucked her hands under her thighs and began tapping her toes on the ground. “He had some interesting stories to tell me.”  
  
“Jesus Christ.” Colton hid behind his hands as he sank into a vat of ice.  
  
“Colton, you don't even know what I'm _talking_ about.”  
  
“What else could he have to talk about?” Colton asked, his words muffled beneath his palms.  
  
The second that Elise touched his hands and began to move them away from his eyes, his heart started again. “I just wanted to talk with you.” There was a sympathy in her eyes that made him want to break away and go sprinting outside, to keep running until he'd left the entire last few hours behind him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”  
  
“Okay?” Colton scoffed. “Elise, I just spent the past hour and a half sitting here trying to figure out if anybody'd really be that upset if I said I had to go home to see Schyler.”  
  
She winced. “Is she getting worse?”  
  
“No. That's how 'okay' I am.” He shrugged her off and retreated to the far side of his cushion with a sigh.  
  
He felt bad about giving her a cold shoulder almost immediately after he moved away, but if he knew anything about Elise, it was that she was not to be perturbed. She promptly scooted over to share the cushion with him, her hip bumping against his, her body heat bleeding out through her jeans. “ _I'd_ be upset if you left,” she murmured.  
  
“Would you really?” he asked.  
  
Elise reached over and touched a hand to his thigh. “Colton, you're one of my best friends. Every day would suck if you weren't here with me.”  
  
His eyes moved from her hand to her face. “You'd still have Erika. And Phil.”  
  
“They're not you.” She quirked her eyebrows. “And you're not them. None of you takes somebody else's place. That's not how this thing works.”  
  
“What thing?”  
  
“Friendship?” She smiled at him again. “Et cetera?”  
  
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what the 'et cetera' was before he realized he wasn't sure he was ready for the answer, especially if it involved her and Phil. He settled for a little nod as he looked away.  
  
A car started outside, and he glanced toward the window. “They leaving without you?”  
  
“I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to be sure you were okay.” She shrugged. “They can go without both of us. Whatever.”  
  
“Guess that means we're all alone.” The silence in the air grew thick with tension before Colton realized what he had said. He looked quickly at her. “I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”  
  
“You didn't?” she asked quietly, eyes twinkling.  
  
“No! No, I-I'm not that kind of guy, you know that!” He was babbling, he realized, and every word he said was punctuated in his mind's eye with images from the night and the few hours before.  
  
“Geez, you really _are_ a liar now, aren't you?”  
  
“I am not!” His cheeks were flaming red. When he shot to his feet, Elise reached out and grabbed his hand, laughing.  
  
“Colton, I'm _teasing_ you. It's fine. I know you're not a predator or something.”  
  
“Well, can you just...quit teasing me?” he asked, dragging his free hand through his hair. “I'm kind of on edge, in case you didn't notice.”  
  
“Then sit down and talk to me.” She tugged his hand, and he elected to sit again. “Tell me why you're on edge.”  
  
Why? She wanted to know why? He couldn't even _begin_ to tell her why. He couldn't say that he was ashamed that he'd ever let Phil go through with that. He couldn't say that he was feeling desperate for validation. He couldn't say that he was wondering if he should hate himself. And he dang well couldn't say that his skin was thrumming all over again with every second she spent near him, that a baser side of him was wondering how her lips and tongue could compare to Phil's if he ever decided to give himself up like that again.  
  
He squeezed her hand for a second before letting it go. “I'm...nervous about seeing Phil again.”  
  
“I would be too.” She tilted her head to the side, collecting her hair and gathering it over one shoulder. The smell of lilacs exploded from her bare neck, as if she'd spritzed herself with some perfume. “But I think you should only be nervous if you don't want something like that to happen again.”  
  
“I mean, why would I?” Colton forced a laugh.  
  
“Because you might've enjoyed it?” She smiled at him. “Because it might've meant something to you?”  
  
The poison pouring from his lips nearly burned his tongue as it went. “It's not like I'm gay or anything, Elise. It was an accident.”  
  
“...riiiight. Sort of like accidentally having sex.”  
  
“Exactly!”  
  
“My health teacher told me about that. It's easy to do, you know? You just take two blind and deaf people with memory problems who're completely naked and extremely horny and then just run them at each other at the speed of light. And then you let them back up and do it again.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Elise sighed softly. “It's okay if you liked it, Colton.”  
  
“Says who?” He thudded back into the couch cushion with a sigh of his own. “That was supposed to wait until I was married. All of it was. Even...even last night. It wasn't time for it.”  
  
“Says who?” she shot back.  
  
“Says everybody.”  
  
“Everybody at your church?”  
  
He slowly narrowed his eyes. Her words clanked around in his head until he felt dizzy.  
  
“Listen, Colton, I don't know if you paid any attention in your OWN health class in high school, but I'm pretty sure there's research everywhere these days proving that you're at your sexual peak and prime right now.” She seemed completely unaware of the effect that her words were having on him. He shifted. “It means it's _time_ for you to start experimenting and discovering yourself. That's how God made you.”  
  
He looked at her. His cheeks were flushing again.  
  
“I can guarantee at least half the people in your age group at your church aren't virgins. Seriously. And I'm betting next to none of them feel guilty about it. Because they know that God's gonna love you no matter what you decide.”  
  
“It doesn't matter what He thinks right now anyway,” he murmured petulantly.  
  
Elise flinched, and he wondered if she had his crucifix necklace on her somewhere. But she seemed to recover quickly. She drew in a deep breath before tilting her head to the side. “So what are you gonna do?”  
  
He blinked. “What?”  
  
“Are you gonna experiment?”  
  
He darted his eyes away. “I-I mean...right now I'm not sure if Phil and I-”  
  
“I don't mean with Phil. He's not exactly your only option, you know.”  
  
He stood up again. He didn't want to consider what she meant, because he was almost completely sure he'd be wrong. “Do you want some water?” he asked as he took a few quick steps toward the kitchen nook.  
  
Elise was on his heels. “Do you do this a lot?”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“Run from your issues when they get tough?”  
  
Colton whirled around to face her. “What are you saying? Huh? Are you saying _you're_ an option for experimentation?”  
  
Elise held his eyes. She shifted her weight. It accentuated the curves of her breasts and thighs, the width of her hips as compared to the dip of her waist, and the light caught her hair in such a way that made him feel a little dizzy. “I'm saying I want you to be happy.”  
  
He didn't speak.  
  
“And if _I_ can make you happy? When you're sober instead of drunk?” A slow smile came to her full, glossy lips.  “Then I say bring it on.”  
  
“Elise...” But he didn't know how to say anything else.  
  
She waited for a few seconds before reaching into her pocket. He couldn't see what the little square was that she pulled out at first, but after a moment his eyes adjusted to the light and widened.  
  
“You planned this,” he murmured with a strange sense of wonder.  
  
“I hoped for it,” she corrected. She placed the condom on the nearby card table and stepped toward him.  
  
He instinctively took a step back. “I-I don't know if we...should be doing this.”  
  
Elise smiled, looking up at him through thick eyelashes. “Why not? Don't think with your brain, Colton,” she said softly. She reached up and touched a hand to his chest, and he swallowed a gasp. “What's your heart telling you?”  
  
His heart? His heart was thudding ten thousand miles a second. It was pumping blood fretfully through every vein and making him feel lightheaded and woozy. He was pretty sure that he was beginning to sweat out of sheer anxiety. It pounded right under Elise's hand, filling him with endorphins that drowned his brain's common sense. “It's...” He couldn't even talk. His mouth was dry.  
  
She tilted her head to the side. Her hair cascaded over one of her shoulders like a waterfall, soft and thick and shiny, as enticing as anything he'd seen in his life. “Is it telling you to stop?” she prompted.  
  
He slowly shook his head. “No. No it isn't.”  
  
“Then why should you?” She came forward again, and this time he stayed still. He let her approach him. He let her reach up and gently run her fingers through his hair. He watched her eyes follow her hand's progress, taking on a warm gleam that matched her softening smile, like she was memorizing this moment, cherishing every second of it. “Why should you hold something like this back?”  
  
He leaned into her hand, his eyes falling shut as he exhaled shakily. But then his brain rose up again, a final cry for sanity, and he jerked away from her. “Why're you doing this?” he asked. “You and Phil, why...why are you...”  
  
“Why are we what?”  
  
“Why are you doing... _stuff_ like this to me?”  
  
Her smile faltered. “What do you mean? Do you think we're planning something?”  
  
He shook his head. “I don't know. It's just...the timing's kind of...”  
  
Elise's face fell, and Colton felt a tiny bit of shame and guilt rise up in him. “Colton, this isn't a game. This is...” She bit her bottom lip, seeming to consider her words, before she spoke again. “I can't speak for Phil. He does what he wants. But I...I just can't stop thinking about what happened last night.”  
  
Elise rubbing against his thigh, heat radiating from her panties.  
  
“About how it felt...right.”  
  
Phil pulling him close for a bruising kiss.  
  
“And I wanted to know...what it would be like if we kept going.”  
  
The three of them collapsed in an exhausted heap against each other, covered in sweat and panting for dear life.  
  
“Didn't you?”  
  
He nodded. He pressed one of his fists to his lips in thought.  
  
Elise hesitated for a moment. “You liked it, then? What the three of us did? What Phil did to you?”  
  
Electricity sparked at his spine. It exploded and sent sparks flying every which way through his blood. He remembered looking down, seeing Phil's head bobbing, feeling his tongue wrap around him, and he felt the beginnings of a keening hardness for the second time that day. He nodded again. “Yeah.”  
  
“Then don't be afraid. It's natural. This whole thing is natural. It's sexuality. What could be healthier than that?”  
  
He kept nodding. He didn't stop. Maybe it didn't make perfect sense, not yet, but his eyes were drifting around to take in her parted lips, the redness of her cheeks, the sharp angle of her collarbone and the roundness of her breasts, and he suddenly didn't want this logic to end. “You're right.”  
  
She stepped toward him again and reached out, and though he didn't flinch or step away she still hesitated. And then she let her hand brush against his waist. He felt the weight of her palm through the thinness of his hoodie. She pressed gently, enough for him to register the solid pressure, before sliding her hand around to the small of his back.  
  
“What are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice on the edge of cracking from sheer nerves and feeling.  
  
She smiled. “I'm easing you in.” She let her other hand touch his stomach and drift upward, pausing in the center of his breastbone. “You're like a shy puppy, Colton. If I move too fast, I'll scare you off. I want you to enjoy this, not run away from it. So I'm letting you wade before you duck your head under, so to speak.”  
  
He nodded again. This made sense. Tingles followed her hands, a constant path of shivers that wouldn't die, and he realized that he was starting to shake. “Oh. Okay.”  
  
“Tell me to stop if it gets weird,” she murmured.  
  
“Yeah,” he said faintly, but his eyes were growing unfocused and all his attention was hovering over her hand as it devoured his spine. She was a cartographer making a map, and her hands were the pens she used to claim her land. He closed his eyes.  
  
Her hands explored every inch of his torso, front and back, until he knew every slight pressure of her hands. He knew them when they were soft. He knew them when they were heavy. He knew them when she pressed only her fingers into his skin and left her palm out of it, and vice versa. There was the faint buzz of a zipper as she opened his hoodie and let it drop to the floor, and by the time both hands wandered down and hesitated at the hem of his t-shirt, he was trembling with anticipation. “May I?” she whispered.  
  
“Please,” he whispered back.  
  
She didn't take off his shirt immediately. She slid her hands just under the hem, just enough for her fingers to touch his midriff, but that alone was enough to make him exhale in a rush. He knew her hands now, yes, but he didn't know the intimacy of them touching his skin like this. She curled her hands just so, and her nails scratched against his flesh, and he shivered. “You okay?”  
  
“Yes. Yes, please, keep going.”  
  
She obliged him. She pressed her hands fully against his stomach and let them drift to his sides, consuming every inch of his waist and ribcage. She laid her small palms against his bones, as if she was measuring the side of his ribs, before letting her touch wander around to his pectorals. Goosebumps were rushing across his exposed skin, making him shiver, making him breathe all the heavier, until he became aware of a vague sense of anticipation when she hesitated again. He didn't even let her ask for permission this time. He lifted his hands and coaxed the shirt off his own body, letting his eyes open enough to see her smile.  
  
He hadn't seen this side of her before. She was taking in his skin, his slender physique, not only with her hands, but with her eyes as well. There was a fire in her eyes that he wasn't used to, one that almost scared him. It was the fire of a woman who knew what she was doing and who knew what she liked. And apparently she liked what she saw.  
  
She wrapped her arms around him, the fuzz of her sweater providing a peculiar contrast to the softness of her hands, and touched her forehead just below his collarbone. She hovered there for a moment before placing the first kiss on his chest.  
  
He didn't expect his legs to almost give way like they did. He reached blindly for a chair and stumbled back against it, his hip colliding with its back, and Elise looked up at him with wide eyes. “You okay?”  
  
He nodded again. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” but there was a breathless quality to his voice that made her furrow her eyebrows. “I just...I'm...” And he found himself laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation. “I-I feel like a girl. This is stupid.”  
  
She smiled softly. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I'm...more sensitive than I thought,” he chanced. “It makes me feel dumb.”  
  
“You're not dumb,” she murmured. She tucked her arms a little more solidly around his waist. “You're you. And if you're sensitive...that just means you're gonna get a hell of a lot more out of this than most guys.” Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she guided him around to lean against the table. “You okay? You stabilized?”  
  
He nodded again. “Yeah.”  
  
“All right.” Elise pressed her hands into the table on either side of his hips before leaning in again. The second kiss wasn't any easier for his body to bear. His heart skipped a beat, his hands pulled into fists, and he gasped. She followed that kiss with another, and then another, dusting featherlight touches of her lips all around his chest, places that were marked with fire the instant she so much as hovered over his skin. He groaned quietly as he tilted his head back and simply relished the sweet contact, the smell of her hair, the warmth of her breath. It was all too good to be true.  
  
She came up onto her tiptoes and leaned her thighs against his knees as she went on to explore his neck next. She moved tirelessly, like they had all the time in the world, like there weren't five other people that could suddenly decide bowling sucked without them and that they needed the upstairs room, and while that thought maybe should have panicked him, it didn't. It made his heart throb with excitement. He shivered with a sudden weight of pressure rippling all the way through his body. “Jesus, Elise,” he whispered.  
  
As if she became aware of his palms, which were beginning to ache from his nails pressing into them so deeply, she reached down and unfolded his hands. She nuzzled his neck as she lifted his hands and placed them carefully, one on her shoulder and the other on the back of her head, and he latched onto both places for dear life. His fingers tangled in her hair and in the neck of her shirt, much pleasanter lifelines than making his hands bleed.  
  
“How do you feel?” she murmured against his skin.  
  
He exhaled slowly, searching for words. “Incredible. This is...you're amazing.”  
  
“You ain't seen nothing yet.” She purred those words as she came to the shell of his ear and touched her lips to it. The second she sucked his earlobe into his mouth he gasped and dug his fingers into her hair as a current shot southward and illuminated the memory of Phil's tongue right before his mind's eye. She nibbled playfully at his ear and let her tongue flit across the entire length of it before she chuckled at his reaction. “You feeling eased in yet?”  
  
“Sweet Jesus, yes.”  
  
She laughed quietly again. “Colton, you're something else. The things you say.”  
  
He opened his eyes and felt a tiny bit of awkwardness creep up before it was smothered by the feelings of pleasure still shooting through him. “Should...I be...cruder?”  
  
“I don't know if you could,” she teased. She took a step back and touched her hands to his thighs, and he sat as straight as a stick. “Besides, I kind of like it. You sound like you.” And then she cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You ready for what comes next?”  
  
“I don't know what that is,” he murmured even as his body ached to find out.  
  
“I'll show you.” And without any hesitation, without a single touch of awkwardness, she tugged her sweater off and tossed it aside. His first reaction was to avert his eyes as his cheeks turned beet red. But his subconscious had already seen her, and whether he liked it or not his mind's eye was displaying the snapshot like it was on a projector. Elise giggled. “You don't have to be shy, Colton. I want you to see me. I want you to look.”  
  
He felt compelled to check. “Are you sure?” he asked, even as it made him feel like a weenie.  
  
“I'd like it if you looked at me,” she murmured, her voice taking on a warm, husky texture. “I've thought about it for days now.”  
  
He couldn't turn down an invitation like that, especially not when his body was screaming at him to obey her every whim, and so with a gulp to give him courage he turned his eyes back to her figure.  
  
She was wearing an orange bra, that was the first thing he saw, trimmed all around the bust with lace. It highlighted not only the tan of her skin, but the curve of her breasts. His palms buzzed with painful excitement and his every cell exploded in anticipation before rushing down to the ground, to carry the news along.  
  
“What do you think?” Elise asked.  
  
His only reply was a heavy exhale.  
  
He lived in a world where he was commanded only to find a certain kind of girl attractive. Elise didn't fit a single one of those categories. There was a roundness and fullness to her stomach. Her breasts weren't perfectly perky. There was the occasional stretch mark across the top of her breasts, in fact. And yet he felt so overwhelmed that he thought he might fall off the table and die right there. He _wanted_ her. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to explore every inch of her until the sun rose, and then he wanted to rest only a second before doing it all over again. He grabbed the edge of the table and restrained himself both from approaching her and from collapsing, because he honestly wasn't sure which he'd do first.  
  
It was Elise that stepped forward, and he snapped his eyes up to meet her own. “You're being shy again,” she said with a small smile. “What did I tell you about being shy?”  
  
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked softly.  
  
The smile shifted into a smirk. “You didn't know what you were getting into, did you?” she teased.  
  
The reference took a moment to settle in under the haze covering his brain, but it registered with a memory of him standing backstage and watching her and Phil spiral around the stage as they sang to one another, and he chuckled as he shook his head. “I think you're talking to the wrong guy there.”  
  
“I'm not interested in another guy right now. I'm here with you.” She reached out and took his hands, and the shaking started all over again. “And you're supposed to do whatever feels right.” And she pressed his hands into her bare waist, just above the inviting curve of her hips, and left them there. “So go on. Explore.”  
  
The pressure was overwhelming. He took in a deep breath and tried to look at all of her, at the entire picture, but God help him, the only thing his eyes kept focusing on were those magnificent breasts of hers. He curled his hands slightly in uncertainty before deciding that breasts were too overwhelming. He wasn't allowed to touch those. He wasn't. He'd been told that all his life. And that was something he was going to have to break past when he wasn't expecting it. He forced his eyes to look at her navel instead, at the broadness of her hips compared with the slenderness of her waist, and tried not to think about anything above it.  
  
He might as well have been a starving man telling himself not to think about a steak dinner. But it was a fine effort nonetheless.  
  
He began slowly. He brushed his thumbs against her skin and wondered at the smell of lilacs that continued to permeate the air. “Lotion?” he asked softly.  
  
“My favorite. I use it after every shower.”  
  
He imagined this same part of her body with beads of steamy water dripping down. If his hardness had only been a suggestion before, it was now demanding to be noticed, like a curious three-year-old. He licked his lips and nodded. He followed the same path that Elise had, letting his hands slide around to the small of her back with only the barest pressure, if only because he was afraid to press any harder. She sucked in a quiet, sudden breath, and he looked up at her in surprise. She met his eyes with her lips slightly parted. “Go on. Don't be scared,” she urged.  
  
He blinked. “Apparently I'm not the only sensitive one.”  
  
She grinned at him. “Keep going, or I'll kill you.”  
  
Dying a virgin wasn't a pleasant thought, especially when he realized he was maybe this close to ending that. He let his hands continue their exploring. He felt the tiny dimple in the small of her back, right in the center of it. He hungrily discovered the dip and curve of her spine. And when his fingers encountered the fastening of her bra, he froze like a deer hearing a gun cock.  
  
“It's a bra,” Elise teased. “It's not going to hurt you.”  
  
“Speak for yourself,” he murmured. “These things always seemed dangerous to me.”  
  
She lifted her hands and cupped her breasts. “No more dangerous than these.”  
  
Something in his brain fizzled and went out, and he stared dumbly at her chest as she lifted them a little higher before he suddenly felt a painful throbbing in his pants that made him gasp. “Geez, Elise.”  
  
“I'd say I'm sorry, but I don't like to lie,” she said with a grin that said she was very pleased with herself.  
  
Operation Ignore-The-Breasts was failing miserably now, especially when he could see a roundness rising straight through the material. Jesus Christ, those were nipples. Those were Elise's nipples. They were attached to Elise's breasts and they were nipples and they were hard. “You're gonna give me a heart attack before all this is over, aren't you?”  
  
“I hope not,” she chuckled.  
  
He dropped his hands weakly to his sides. He knew what he was supposed to do, what his body was aching and screaming for, but he couldn't do it. Deep beneath his desire-drenched brain there was a painful bit of fear that was holding him back, and he didn't know if it was ever going to let go.  
  
Elise waited for several long seconds in patience before she spoke again, in that same teasing husky tone he recognized from moments before. “Goddammit, Colton, if you don't come out and touch me, I'm gonna have to do it myself. And while I'm pretty sure you'd enjoy that, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun for me.”  
  
“I can't,” he stammered.  
  
“Want me to help you?” Her tone was softer now, gentler, coaxing, and it made him feel like a boy instead of a man. Someone like Phil would know immediately what to do in this situation. He'd have no inhibitions. He'd take what he wanted instead of letting himself be left behind in his innocence. Colton was getting ready to pout and sulk at himself when Elise reached out, grabbed his hand, and touched it to her breast, and he stiffened like he'd just been electrified. “There we go.”  
  
“Elise!”  
  
“I _want_ you to do this, Colton,” she pressed. She leaned in closer, and he gaped at her chest like a fish as she cupped his hand a little firmer. “I. Have been dreaming of this. For days. So if there's something inside you telling you you're just using me for your own damn pleasure or something, kick it in the teeth, because I couldn't be hornier right now.”  
  
There was something about her forcefulness, the touch of crudeness to her language, that shoved that fear away and locked it up, where it could flail and scream all it wanted without hurting a dang thing. “Are you sure?” he chanced one last time.  
  
“Yes. _God_ , yes. _Please_.”  
  
He snapped his eyes downward. There was only a moment more of hesitation before he let his thumb brush against the smooth fabric of his own volition. Elise dropped her hand to her stomach and let it rest there, as if she was afraid he'd try to jolt away again and she had to be prepared to stop it, but he wrote it off. He knew he wouldn't. Not now. Not anymore.  
  
He held the full weight of her breast in his palm, becoming familiar with it, before he exhaled slowly. “Can I ask you something, Elise?”  
  
“What?” she asked, her tone sounding shaky.  
  
“Can you...take your bra off?”  
  
She chuckled. “You don't wanna do that yourself?”  
  
He blushed all over again. “I'd screw it up. I'd probably break it or something. I really would.”  
  
“You're lucky you're cute.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss against his cheek just before she reached back and unhooked the foreign contraption.  
  
If he thought he was prepared to see her without a bra, he was wrong. He was _dead_ wrong. “Holy shit,” he whispered, tasting the unfamiliar curse word on his tongue because, really, there wasn't any other phrase to describe the roaring that suddenly rose in his ears or the way he almost doubled over from the sweet agony that exploded in his tightly contained erection. Why the heck did he wear skinny jeans these days? They caused him nothing but pain when he was confronted with something like a pair of warm, round breasts, pale beneath their tan lines, dotted with dusky nipples.  
  
He was doing this. He was really doing this. Because he recognized as he cupped one in each hand that he'd passed a point of no return long before.  
  
Elise hitched her breath as he considered each of them, giving a soft and tentative squeeze to both, and he snapped his eyes back up to see her face. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, wandering somewhere near the level of his hands, and he watched her cheeks as they slowly began to flush. And then, right then, he was hit with a sudden, desperate desire to see and hear her expression of ecstasy that he'd only seen once beforehand, in the living room with her and Phil. He needed to know that she was enjoying this. He needed to make her happy.  
  
The experiment began. Even as his heart pounded in his ears, he kept his attention rotating from her chest to her face. Another slight squeeze caused no change. Letting his thumbs brush along the sides provoked a shiver. He took his time, judging her, waiting to see if she looked impatient or bored with anything he did. But it was his last action that gave him the most satisfactory reaction. He slid his fingers over her nipples, and she gasped with a sudden arch of her back.  
  
God, that was beautiful. He liked that. He wanted to see it again. He circled his thumbs around the hard flesh again and was rewarded with her reaching out to grab his shoulders and squeeze them with both hands, as if she was stabilizing herself. He wondered if she was getting as weak on her feet as she'd made him. He imagined what might happen if he went forward into the next stage of the experiment.  
  
She slowly brought her eyes up to meet his own, and when she opened her mouth to speak he began to lean forward. Her eyes widened. Oh yes, she was focused now, wasn't she? The attention made him catch his breath, made him feel powerful and in control, and he let his hands skim down her sides to grab her hips as he brushed his nose against her nipple just before taking it into his mouth.  
  
“Jesus!” Elise gasped, her hands relocating to grab his hair in a death grip. He smiled against her skin just before he instinctively sucked on the tender flesh, curving his tongue to brush right against the tip. “Holy shit, Colton, don't you even think about stopping.”  
  
Experiment: successful. There was a slight bitterness at first, something he thought might be a product of the lotion she was talking about, but every second made that lessen until he was left with the taste of _her_. He'd never encountered anything like it before. He delved further into the scientific material he'd gathered so far, leaning back slightly to flick his tongue and note her reaction, blowing a thin stream of cold air to watch her nipple ripen further before reaping the benefits, and finally letting his hand offer the more neglected breast a touch of attention as well. Every movement, every thought, was responded to with swearing and gasps, and before he knew it he was opening his legs and coaxing Elise to come further in, to lean against him just so as he snaked his free arm behind her and held her waist firmly. He felt every minute jumping of her muscles, every sharp breath she took, and he relished it all.  
  
The only reason he ended up pulling away when he finally did was because he was panting too hard to keep up and he felt incredibly lightheaded. He rested his forehead on her chest and tried desperately to catch his breath. “It's too much, Elise.”  
  
“And we haven't even gotten started yet,” she said with her own degree of breathlessness, finishing it with a quiet laugh. She tangled her fingers in his hair with one hand and held him close with the other. “But damn, boy. You're a natural.”  
  
He laughed as well. “Shut up.”  
  
“Trust me. I don't lie about my tits.” Her hand slid to cup his cheek as she brought his head back so he could meet her eyes. She held him there for a moment, as if she was casting a spell just with her gaze, before she licked her lips. “You ready?”  
  
Every nerve on his skin prickled in joint anticipation and terror. “I...” And this time, Elise didn't push him. She didn't try to finish his sentence. She just stood there and smiled at him, looking soft and inviting, patiently waiting him out. He thought of the feel of her breasts, of the unique taste of her skin, of how his entire body was pulsating with a desperate, but scary, need to collide with her, to devour her whole. But there was something missing. It took him only a moment to register what it was. “I am, but...but first...can I kiss you?”  
  
Her eyes widened. She stared at him, her eyes tracing over his face, and he saw a strange intensity come into her gaze, something both intimate and overwhelming. “I wish you would.”  
  
He nodded. And then he came to his feet, comfortable at the difference between their heights there, and touched her cheek. He let his hand slide into her hair, cupping the back of her head protectively, and reached to trace one of his fingers just along the smoothness of her lips. She shivered. It was all the invitation he needed to lean down and capture them with his own.  
  
The pressure was soft and tentative at first, mostly on his part, but he heard her sharply inhale straight through her nose, and that was enough to make him close his eyes and lean into her. The collision of her breasts against his chest, the sharpness of the skin-on-skin contact, made a sudden haze stretch out across his brain like a thick web, one that dulled his thoughts and focused purely on sensory impulses. A wave of fire washed over him, but he wanted nothing more than to drown in it for the rest of time.  
  
Somewhere in the midst of the kiss he felt his hands seize her hips, and he slowly turned the two of them until it was her at the edge of the table, and he coaxed her back to slide up and sit on the surface without once breaking their contact. There was a moment of bumping, of adjustment, and when her knee suddenly brushed against the bulge in his pants he gasped against her lips and bucked against it, pressing tighter, trying to draw out every inch of searing pleasure that he could, before he let a breath of air slide between them.  
  
Elise wasn't playing games anymore. She took his face between her hands and kissed him all over again, ignoring the way their noses bumped as they searched for the right angle. There was a moment of desperate perfection, where they leaned into each other and held their kiss, before she tentatively slid her tongue forward and pressed against his lips. He only hesitated for a breath before his body told him yes, yes, dear God, let this happen, let this moment take over and learn some more, and he parted his lips desperately. It was a velvety brush, her tongue against his, before she began to explore the confines of his mouth, and he groaned his appreciation as he locked his hands around her hips for dear life.  
  
This couldn't go on, he told himself. This was too perfect. Nothing could be better. But when Elise suddenly broke the kiss with a gasp and met his eyes with a passionate intensity, he knew that this was only round two. There was something else to come, something important, and he was ready. God, this was as ready as he was ever going to be. He nodded.  
  
Elise immediately went for the waist of his pants, a certain haste and desperation in her movements that hadn't been there before, and he stared at her hands as she deftly undid his belt and cast it aside, letting it bounce on the carpet once. And then she undid the button and worked the zipper of his pants down slowly, carefully, and proceeded to try to remove them. 'Try' being the operative word.  
  
“Oh my God, Colton, I will never forgive you for wearing these pants today,” she breathed in frustration, and Colton couldn't help but laugh.  
  
“You have no idea. Phil said the exact same thing.”  
  
“From now on you're only allowed to wear drawstring pants in this house.”  
  
His eyes widened, and he snapped his gaze up to her own downcast eyes. “What, this is going to happen again?”  
  
She laughed. “I hope so. I'm definitely enjoying it so far.”  
  
Jesus. Elise wanted to have sex with him. And she wanted to do it _again_ too. What the heck was this going to turn into? He felt like he should probably ponder it, ask some questions before they got in any deeper, but her hand had just brushed against his erection, and he gasped and almost went blind from the sheer ecstasy of it all. She paused for only a moment before she cupped her hand around it and pressed, a devilish gleam in her eye. Fireworks exploded just behind his eyes as he drowned in the heavy sensation. When she drew her hand away to continue working at his jeans, he moaned pitifully at her retreat.  
  
She finally managed the pants removal, and she left him in his boxers as she easily unbuckled and unbuttoned her own jeans. They came off easily enough and left her in a pair of panties that matched her bra, another little glimpse into the fact that she had planned this whole damn thing from start to finish. It both overwhelmed and impressed him. “Are you ready for this?”  
  
“I don't know, but I don't want it to stop,” he said quickly, his hands sliding down to explore the soft and tender flesh of her curvaceous thighs.  
  
She laughed again as she reached for the unopened condom. “Are you excited?”  
  
“Yes. Jesus, why are you asking me such stupid questions?”  
  
“To get you frustrated,” she teased. “It'll make you enjoy it even more.”  
  
He found it impossible to believe that he could enjoy anything more than he already was, but he decided to take her word for it. As she ripped the plastic off the condom, he found himself suddenly feeling a strange sense of nervousness. What if he wasn't...impressive? She'd slept with Phil. She'd probably slept with other guys too, since she seemed to have a good grasp of exactly what she was doing. What if he was smaller than she was used to? What if he came too fast? What if she didn't enjoy a single bit of the sex?  
  
It was fortunate, really, that she was Elise and apparently fully accepting of him being a weenie, because it meant he could open his mouth and murmur, “Are you sure you want to do this?”  
  
She looked up at him sharply. “If you ask me that one more time-”  
  
“You _know_ I've never done this before. You know I'm gonna suck at it. Why do you want to do this?”  
  
Her eyes softened. She reached to cup his cheek again, and he leaned into her palm. “For one, you're not going to suck at it. You're a virgin, but you're still you, and I want _you_. That means I'm going to enjoy it, no matter what. And how many times have I told you I've been dreaming about this for the past few days? I know how it could go, either way. I'm not going to be disappointed. Because it's you. Signed, sealed, delivered.”  
  
He nodded slowly. “I hope you're right.”  
  
“Trust me.” And then she smiled. “Besides. I'm a good teacher.”  
  
“I've noticed,” he said with a quiet chuckle.  
  
She set the open condom to the side and reached out to place her hands around his ribs and tug him forward. “Come on. Closer. We need to experiment first.”  
  
“We do?” he asked, eyes widening.  
  
“I want you to get used to this.” Her smile widened. “You haven't had anything but your hand and Phil's mouth, have you?”  
  
He shook his head. He knew he shouldn't feel awkward about that fact, but he did, just a little. He felt like such a baby compared to Phil right now.  
  
“That's okay. That's good, actually.” She chuckled. “It means you're clean. No STDs or anything.”  
  
He reflexively glanced down at her panties. “...have you ever-”  
  
“I'm clean too. I'm picky about my condoms. Not worth some infection, trust me.” She let him look, let him study the shape of her through the orange underwear, and when his eyes fell on the drop of wetness that had soaked through earlier he felt his breathing start catching all over again. “Come here. I want you to do something.”  
  
“What?” he asked rather breathlessly.  
  
She opened her legs a little further and pulled him in close. “Just...feel this.” As she slid her thighs against his hips, locking him in, he began to feel that lightheadedness, and he instinctively touched her waist once again. “Don't be scared,” she murmured. He felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation with every inch that he closed between them, felt as if his hardness was straining against his boxers for an unseen destination. And then he pressed against her, and he gasped sharply, his eyes immediately squinting shut. “There...that's it.”  
  
Jesus _Christ_ , he could feel heat radiating through her panties and his boxers, right against his erection. There was the promise of moisture. But most of all, there was a blessed pressure, more remarkable than her hand against his jeans, than her knee pressing against him, because this one had a give to it, a wet and ready give. “Oh my God,” he whispered.  
  
She chuckled. “Relax. Relaaaax. Just feel...”  
  
He exhaled sharply. He tried to catch his breath.  
  
“Good. Listen.” She'd leaned forward at some point and touched her cheek to his shoulder, where she could whisper into his ear. “It's going to feel a lot like his mouth, okay? The condom can't hide _that_ much. But it's gonna be warmer. And tighter. All around your cock.”  
  
Electricity shocked his erection – no, his _cock_ , he told himself – raw. He whimpered as he squeezed her hips.  
  
“Are you ready?” she whispered as she slid her fingers around the waist of his boxers.  
  
“God, yes,” he managed.  
  
“Good.” She slid them down until they fell around his ankles, and he kicked them aside. He watched as she took him in with her eyes running over every inch of his hardness, as she slowly smiled. And then her eyes went to take his body as a whole, from his head to his toes. “Jesus, Colton, you're beautiful.”  
  
He felt pleasure radiate all the way down to his toes, the softest and most innocent pleasure he'd felt in their whole encounter here. “I...I need to see you too. All of you.”  
  
She met his eyes, and her gaze took on the heat of a seductress, something that dragged its nails down his skin in the most intoxicating way, before she stood up and took hold of her panties and jerked them down her legs. “My pleasure.”  
  
She was glorious. She was a goddess. He studied her closely as his brain shorted out and died. As she slid back up to sit on the table, legs spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of her dewy wetness, he thought he might pass out from all the blood suddenly shooting straight southward. “...wow. I...you're gorgeous. You're...”  
  
“Come here, Colton,” she murmured, quirking her index finger to wave him over, and he immediately shut his mouth and obeyed her. She plucked the condom into the fingers of one hand before she looked down at him again. When she reached out and brushed her fingers against his ere- his _cock_ , he murmured pitifully and leaned forward to grab the edge of the table for the billionth time that night.  
  
In that moment, no matter how much he might have longed for it to be differently, he knew he was going to come easily. He wasn't going to be able to help it. “Please, Elise...”  
  
“As you wish.” She carefully slid the condom into place, and he wondered at the feel of the latex against his skin as compared to her hand, to Phil's mouth. “I want you to start nice and slow. Okay? Come in...and stop. I don't care how much you want to move, _stop_.”  
  
He nodded. Whatever it took. Whatever made her happy. “Yes, okay.”  
  
She brought him between her legs and let her hand slide to the base of his hardness to guide him. He wanted to close his eyes, to revel in the sheer sensual pleasure of this, but with every centimeter that she spread her legs he was invited to look, to explore, to see more than he'd seen in a very long time, back in his weaker and baser days, and even then, this was _different_ , this was _Elise_ , and he - “Holy...fucking...SHIT!” he cried as she enveloped him in warm, pliable heat.  
  
Her thighs tightened around his hips and held him firm, and she was right, all he wanted to do was plunge deeper into her. He wanted to fill her with him. He wanted to feel every inch of his cock covered by her. “Don't you fucking move,” she whispered, and her words were just hot enough, just sexy enough, to make him twitch inside of her. “Adjust to it. Get used to it.”  
  
“Elise, you're so...oh _God_.”  
  
She let him touch his forehead to hers as she wrapped her arms around him. “So what?”  
  
“So _hot!_ ”  
  
She laughed a husky, breathy little laugh against his cheek. “You like that?”  
  
“Nnf!”  
  
“Breathe, Dixon. Breathe with me. Come on.”  
  
He breathed – or tried to, at least. It was torture, having to just stay here inside of her without getting to feel anything more. All his hips wanted to do was buck. It was Elise's strict instructions and the tiny part of his intelligent brain that was still functioning that had him fighting against his instincts. “Please, Elise? I...please?”  
  
She chuckled again, and that went straight with the rest of his blood, searing him from the inside out. “Okay. Now...slowly. _Slowly_.”  
  
He slid deeper inside her, adjusting to the feel of her, feeling her spread with every bit that he pushed. It was incandescent. There were already little stars twinkling behind his eyes, and they'd barely even gotten started. He pressed until he filled her, listening to the way her own breath caught and feeling her nails as they dug into his back. “Oh my God, Elise, I don't even have the words to say,” he breathed.  
  
“Come on, Dixon,” she whispered against his skin. “Are you here to fuck me or take a nap inside my pussy?”  
  
He dug his own nails into her hips at her words, crass things that he'd never heard from her mouth that suddenly excited him like nothing else he'd ever heard. He came out of her, almost to the tip, before slowly pushing into her again with a quick, gasping breath.  
  
“That's it,” she purred.  
  
He moved again and again, over and over, slowly building up speed with each thrust that he made inside of her. And she was catching her breath with him and cooing her encouragement, and that alone was driving him toward an edge that he wasn't ready to reach yet.  
  
But he couldn't take it. Jesus, she was hot, she was wet, and she was _tight_ , and it made him want to sink into her deeper and deeper with every movement. He couldn't see straight. He couldn't _think_ straight. He couldn't even figure out where she began and he ended. They were one flesh, he realized, but even the Biblical reference couldn't slow his movements and put the fear of God in him, not anymore.  
  
He became aware of the incredible way that her breasts were bouncing with every thrust he made, of just how freaking sexy that was, and suddenly was hit in between the eyes with his earlier experiment. “Elise?”  
  
“Colton,” she murmured back.  
  
He shook his head. “No, Elise, please, tell me.”  
  
“Tell you what?” she gasped.  
  
Hadn't he told her? No, his brain wasn't working. He didn't have a clue what he might have said in the past thirty minutes, much less the past thirty seconds. “I-I need to...I want to do something for you. What can I do? I want to make you enjoy this.”  
  
“Shut up and enjoy yourself!” was her response. “What are you thinking, worrying about me? This is your virginity!”  
  
“Please!” He was fighting to keep his awareness of the moment, to focus on anything but the feeling of drowning in heaven. He remembered something suddenly: her clitoris. He could do something with her clit, couldn't he? He awkwardly tried to angle himself so he could have a better reach for her, but it ended up failing miserably, so he returned to his original position and simply reached between the two of them. He wasn't ready for the feeling of wetness surrounding his fingers, and the mere feeling of that made him gasp sharply. But he couldn't focus on that. He had to press on, quite literally.  
  
“Colton, what are you doing?” she asked with a little breathless laugh.  
  
“Your, uh...I-I can-”  
  
“God, you're determined.” And so she reached and guided his hand until his fingers were pressing against a small, firm nub. Elise gave a little moan the second he brushed his thumb against it. “Just circle it right now. No, a little harder than - _yes_ , Colton, _perfect!_ ”  
  
There were so many freaking things happening at one time. He was thrusting, he was drowning, he was circling, he was trying so hard, so _damn hard_ , to hold back the feeling of climbing a rollercoaster, because he'd masturbated enough to know exactly what that meant. “I-I can't last much longer, Elise, I'm sorry.”  
  
“Don't you dare apologize.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gasped a breathy moan. “I want you to come, Colton. I want you to come inside me, _please_.”  
  
No! No, he wanted to draw this out for her. He wanted to be /good!/ He wanted to blow her mind like Phil probably did! But her words were echoing around in his brain, and he couldn't forget them, couldn't hide from them, couldn't lock them down when he was so _ready_ to come for her. He was reaching that precipice, that point of no return. He couldn't come back now. His vision began to turn white, and he felt the heavens themselves open up and shoot him straight into divinity.  
  
He cried out as he thrust erratically into her, coming harder than he ever had before, drowning in wave after wave of inundating pleasure that washed over him and scorched him like an inferno. Time stopped. He just floated there, his skin tingling, his body exploding and knitting itself back together over and over again. When he finally came down, he realized that Elise was holding him tightly, so tightly that he could hardly breathe, and he wrapped his arms around her as well.  
  
And then, if his poor performance wasn't enough to be embarrassed about, he started to cry.  
  
“Shh,” Elise whispered as she smoothed his hair down. “It's all right, sweetheart. I've got you.”  
  
“I'm such a baby,” he whined. But no matter how many times he tried to tell himself to shut up and be a man, the tears kept flowing. They dripped into her hair, and he probably got snot all over her, and, for some ungodly reason, she didn't seem to care.  
  
“I'm not going anywhere right now,” she murmured.  
  
“I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry. I-I'm being stupid.”  
  
“Don't you dare apologize.” She pressed him a little deeper into her shoulder, and he gladly took the direction. “Colton, do you know just how much you've got on your plate right now? And you're apologizing for crying after you lose your virginity in the middle of it all? Really?”  
  
He broke out in an unexpected, choppy laugh. “Well, when you put it that way...”  
  
“I'm here. I can take it. Let it all out, sweetie.”  
  
And he did.


	20. Chapter 20

There was more intimacy in this one moment than in the entire act of sleeping with him. His tears making the sweat on her shoulder warm again, the marks he was leaving in her skin from clutching her so hard, the way he clung to her so unabashedly as if he was a little boy that needed to be held...it was enough to make a knot in her throat, and Elise had to fight the temptation to start crying as well. She didn't even know why. All she understood was that Colton was broken inside far more than she'd ever suspected, and it was going to take a hell of a lot of time to put him back together again.

  
She had the feeling that God could do it for him. She really did. Elise had never been an incredibly spiritual person, but she knew that _something_ had to be guiding this universe, whatever it was, and if it happened to be the Christian God, then so be it. He allegedly loved everybody the most, so why not? But she sensed just how frayed the cord between Colton and this deity had gotten. She didn't think it had broken – she doubted that a kid raised like Colton was could ever truly have that connection severed – but it was hanging by just two or three threads, so fragile that the slightest breeze could snap them in half.  
  
So if Colton wasn't going to let God fix him...who would it fall on to do it instead?  
  
She ran her hand over the back of his head, scattering the soft hairs between her fingers, and cooed a soft, comforting sound in his ear. “That's it, Colt. Don't be afraid. Just let it go.”  
  
“I _am_ afraid,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. “Jesus, Elise, I'm so scared I can't think straight.”  
  
“What are you scared of?” she asked. It was her same theory with Phil: keep him talking. Keep him talking, and he'll figure everything out himself.  
  
“ _Everything_.” His fingers tightened around her biceps to the point that they almost bruised her, but she held her tongue. “Schyler could die. She could _die_ , and I'd only have had nineteen years with her. That's sick. I-I just...”  
  
She hummed in sympathy, not speaking, just letting him flail for the right words.  
  
“...there's this...this movie, right?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“It's one of my favorites. It's called The Pianist.”  
  
“Is that the one with Adrien Brody?” she asked, tilting her head to the side until her cheek rested against the side of his head.  
  
He nodded and sniffled. “Yeah. You've seen it?”  
  
“Bits and pieces. It's about a pianist in Nazi Germany, right?”  
  
“Poland,” Colton corrected her. His voice was still teary, but she could hear it clearing up as he inadvertently distracted himself. “When the Germans are occupying it. Anyway, he's there with his whole family: his mom, his dad, his brother, and his two sisters. And one of his sisters is really passionate, you know? She's obviously the youngest. Her heart guides her, not her head.”  
  
Elise hummed again. She understood this.  
  
“Well, as their entire family's walking to this train that's going to take them all to die in a concentration camp, the main character, the pianist – God, I wish I could remember his name... - well, he looks at his little sister, and he says her name, and she looks at him, and he says...”  
  
Elise waited.  
  
“...he says...'I wish I knew you better.'”  
  
She smoothed her hand over his hair again, feeling her own heart start to break in her chest.  
  
“And that's just it, Elise, that's _exactly_ what it's like, because I just wish I'd spent every single _day_ of those nineteen years getting to know her better. I feel like I know so little about her in the grand scheme of things.”  
  
“Oh, Colt...”  
  
“And it makes me the worst brother ever, I know it does.”  
  
“Shh.” She pressed a soft kiss to his temple on instinct and held him close again. “Colton, you're not the worst brother ever. You're not even a _bad_ brother. Look, I was watching you on Idol way before we ever hit the Top 10, and I saw the way that Schyler looked at you. She _adores_ you. She always has, always will. And a girl doesn't look at her brother like that if he's treated her bad all those years.”  
  
“If I was a good brother, I'd be home with her right now.”  
  
“Then why don't you go ba-”  
  
“Because I'm _scared_ , Elise!” They'd been connected all this time, him still inside of her, flaccid as anything, but now he broke away and crossed the room, his back to her. The sudden loss of his body heat made her cold. “I'm scared of what'll happen. I'm scared of what she'll look like.”  
  
Elise wrapped herself up in a ball, her arms locking around her legs. “She hasn't started chemo yet, has she?”  
  
He hung his head. “No.”  
  
“Then shouldn't she look the same?”  
  
“I know she should, but there's this irrational part of me that's scared to go and find out.”  
  
“It's _irrational_ , Colt. That's exactly right. There's no reason for you to be afraid of it if it's irrational.”  
  
“My worst fears have always been the irrational ones,” he murmured. “That doesn't make them any easier to deal with.”  
  
He was going to stay far away from her, wasn't he? Well, she didn't know if she liked that, not one bit. She slid off the edge of the table and approached him. When she wrapped her arms around him from behind, he sagged back against her with a heavy sigh. “I'm not going to tell you to go home. I think with everything that's been going on, some time away from home's for the better for you. When I saw you coming toward this beach house, I just...you looked so haggard, Colton. You looked broken. And that was before you even broke.” She rested her cheek against the soft skin of his back, nestled against his spine. “If you hadn't come here, you would've gone insane. I just know it. You take so much on yourself.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“If something goes wrong, your family is going to let you know. You and I both know that. So I think what's important is that you stay here. With us. And let us help make you better, so you can go back to Schyler a whole human being again and be ready to help make _her_ better.”  
  
He didn't speak for the longest time. When he did, it was after he lifted his hand to cup her forearm gently and to run his thumb along the fine hairs on her arm. “Yeah...yeah, you're right.”  
  
Elise poked her head around his shoulder to peer up at him, but along the way she got distracted. “...Colton, you can take the condom off now.”  
  
He looked down. He jolted away from her, his cheeks turning red as a cherry, and fumbled with trying to remove it as carefully as possible. “Oh geez, with my luck, this stuff's gonna go everywhere.”  
  
Elise's head cocked to the side. “Well, if you're that worried about somebody finding it, I can take care of it.”  
  
“Like Erika's not gonna notice it just sitting in your trashcan.”  
  
“Actually,” she said with a sly smile, “I was saying I could swallow it.”  
  
He looked up and stared at her with a combination of such horror and elation that she burst out laughing.  
  
“I was kidding, Colt. Jesus. Here, just...just...stick it in that trashcan over there. I'll take it down when we get dressed.”  
  
His eyes flicked over her body for a moment before he quickly looked away. His cheeks flamed even more. “All right, no problem.”  
  
There was an awkwardness in his frame now as he sidled over to the trashcan, his back to her, his hands unsure about where to go, and it took Elise only a moment before she realized why. “Sweetie, we just had sex. You don't need to be so awkward about being naked.”  
  
“I've got a theory, actually, that you cast some kind of spell on me to seduce me,” he said wryly. “And since it just now wore off, now I'm sheepish about...well, everything.”  
  
“Oh, c'mon!” She hopped over to him and drummed her hands against his butt for a moment, succeeding in making him leap away and squeal. “Lighten up! You seemed like you were having a pretty good time.”  
  
“I guess you could say that.” He was clearly trying to fight a smile, but it was failing pretty miserably.  
  
“Better than with Phil?” she asked, quirking a brow with a smile of her own.  
  
Colton chuckled. “I didn't know this was a competition.”  
  
Elise bit her bottom lip for a moment before scurrying toward her pile of clothing. “Yeah, well, if it is, I'm pretty sure you won the motherlode. Who can make Colton come the hardest?”  
  
“There's only so long that game can go on before I just keel over and die.”  
  
“That's a risk I'm willing to take,” Elise announced. Halfway through pulling up her panties her face nearly split in a yawn. “Jesus, Colt, you wore me out.”  
  
He laughed again, but this time there was a trace of nervousness in his tone. “I-I didn't do much.”  
  
“You were _you_. And that's more than enough.”  
  
The two of them dressed in relative silence after that, Colton sneaking glances and Elise staring unabashedly. When they both stood up straight and fully clothed, Colton cleared his throat. “So, uh...what do we do now?”  
  
He was trying so hard to make this awkward, but Elise was a champion of stomping out post-coital tension. She grinned at him and shrugged. “We could...catch up with the others? Go bowling?”  
  
The idea was so absurd that Colton burst out laughing and shook his head. “No. No, that's okay. I don't think I wanna do anything that involves leaving the house.”  
  
“You and me both.” Especially when they both were glowing and more than likely still smelled heavily of sex and musk. She nibbled on her bottom lip again. “So we go hang out on the beach. How about that?”  
  
He shrugged. “Sure, I'm in.”  
  
They padded downstairs and fought their way through the sand on the beach. Colton had to pause long enough to roll his jeans up his legs a bit, but Elise was more than happy to fill every little crease of hers with sand. They were old anyway, and not nearly fashionable, so if she was cursed to always have a little reminder of these weeks in her pockets, what was the problem? They sat right on the warm sand and watched the waves curl up onto the beach.  
  
After a few moments, she realized that Colton was looking at her, but the second she looked back he snapped his eyes back to the water. She slowly smiled. “What's on your mind?”  
  
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His face wrinkled in thought, which was absurdly adorable, and when he finally elected to speak again, Elise was just barely holding back giggles. “It just...it doesn't seem fair that...y'know, up there-”  
  
“When we had sex,” she drawled. She wasn't going to let him get off the hook that easily.  
  
He gulped, but this time his cheeks didn't turn red. She took that as a small victory. “Yeah. When that happened...it doesn't seem fair that I got to come...and you didn't.”  
  
She raised her eyebrows. That was the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. He was right, she _didn't_ come, but there were so many things she could say in response that it took her a long moment to organize her thoughts. “...Colton, I've had sex a lot.” She paused. “A _lot_ ,” she pressed with a laugh. “And, umm...after a while you sort of start to realize...sex isn't just about who gets the best climax in the end. Hell, it isn't even always about climaxing at _all_. It might _feel_ that way when you start out, because people like you and me are already pretty used to regular, y'know, masturbation and stuff, but at the end of the day, actually having sex with an actual person is...God, it's so much more than that, you know?” She sighed heavily as she leaned back on her elbows, tilting her head to study the sky above her. “Maybe this is just me being a girl, but I like to think that sex is more about intimacy, you know? That moment where you join souls with another person, where you literally can't figure out where one person starts and the other ends. And, at the end of the day, that feeling's more important to me than any climax I might've had.”  
  
He looked a little lost, she realized, but not confused. Just lost in his own thoughts. Pondering. Figuring it out.  
  
Elise let an obligatory length of time stretch out before she let her lips spread into a smirk. “But if you're worried about this getting a little too after-school-special and all, we can always go for Round Two...”  
  
It took a second for that to sink in. When it did his eyes nearly swallowed his face. “What?”  
  
“...and you can make me come all you want.”  
  
He laughed nervously. “I, uh...I-I...”  
  
“Relax.” Her smirk softened. “I'm teasing you again.”  
  
“Oh.” He turned red all over again. “Oh, good. Not that I don't _want_ to sleep with you again. I mean, it was awesome, and you're... _beautiful_ , and I just...” He fumbled for words. “...I-I'm...just really tired,” he finally said with another chuckle.  
  
“You're worn out,” she murmured. She tapped the sand beside her, and he settled down to relax closer to her. “You know I wouldn't push you to do anything you're not ready for.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said softly. He stared up at the sky as Elise rested her head on his chest. “...thank you.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For everything.”  
  
She smiled, but this time it was a secret one, one meant for her and her alone. She let the pleasure of his words sink into her very bones before she snuggled into his chest and let her eyes fall shut.


	21. Chapter 21

“Jesus, Phil, you SUCK!”  
  
Phil spread his arms out wide at Heejun. “I'd like to see YOU hit a seven-ten split like it's nothing after two beers, little man!”  
  
Heejun slammed his hand down on the table. “Sounds like a challenge! Now, where's that bar wench?”  
  
Skylar glanced up as she delivered a cup of draft to the table. The look on her face was enough to make Heejun fling himself to his feet and decide to get his beer himself.  
  
There was a liveliness to the game tonight, especially since it was still completely neck-in-neck (Heejun and Erika were terrific bowlers; Phil and Hollie were about as good at it as they were at singing Bjork covers), but even as Phil lifted his beer to his lips he thought about the fact that it wasn't quite as good as it could've been. They were missing Elise's ability to drive Erika to more ridiculous heights and Colton's wry insults that he was so terrible at. Without them, there was a little heaviness in the air. Or was Phil just imagining it?  
  
He eyed Hollie as she heaved her ball into her hands – that girl was gonna drop that thing on her foot, he was calling it now – and he thought about how often he'd seen her trying to clumsily flirt with Colton. There'd always been a touch of amusement when he witnessed it, especially since Colton was so clueless about it the entire time, but now that he thought about it, he realized that there was a tenseness to his shoulders. He suddenly wanted to see her throw a gutter ball really REALLY badly. When he became aware of it, he tightened his grip, his beer swirling close to the mouth of the cup.  
  
He was going insane. He was losing his head.  
  
He wondered if this was anything like Elise felt when he'd so happily informed her that he'd given Colton a blowjob.  
  
In hindsight, it hadn't exactly been his best timing. One night he was trying to jump Elise's bones after his girlfriend broke up with him – another long drink to make that go to the back of his mind – the next night he was sticking his hand down Elise's panties while kissing Colton, and not even twelve hours after that he was sucking Colton off and bragging to Elise about it. The poor woman had to be confused out of her mind.  
  
So was she sleeping with Colton to make Phil feel jealous? Oh, she was sleeping with him right this second, that was for sure. He'd known the second he left her behind in her bedroom that she was gonna go fuck his brains out. He could feel it in the air, read it in her thoughts. He wasn't sure how. He just _knew_. And now he wondered exactly why she _was_ doing that. Why she'd have sex with Colton and not have sex with him. Was it because she felt more for Phil than she did Colton? Or vice versa?  
  
He could still feel what it felt like to be inside her. God help him, but he could. He remembered how she smelled. He remembered the breathy little gasps that snuck through her gritted teeth every few seconds. He remembered the sexy little smile that'd come across her lips, something he didn't think she even realized he was doing. He remembered every second of it.  
  
Comparing how it felt to be with her with how it felt to be with Hannah was stupid. He loved Hannah. Making love to her was a natural process of their feelings, the ultimate crescendo. He felt safe with her. But Elise was different. He felt electric with her. Maybe a little dangerous. Every part of his body was a live wire, and her skin was the only thing that could keep him contained.  
  
Was it better? No. Was it worse? No, not even. It was just...different. And if someone held a gun to his head and told him to pick what experience he preferred, he'd take that bullet right to the brain.  
  
 _And what about Colton?_  
  
Phil closed his eyes as he took another drink of his beer. He didn't know if he was ready to tackle that yet. Hell, he wasn't sure he ever would. Sex with Hannah and Elise made sense. Sex with Colton didn't. It wasn't Colton's fault he didn't have a pussy. Maybe that was the reason Phil distinctly knew that he was a straight man who just had a bone-shaking connection and attraction with Colton: he wasn't even the slightest bit curious about what it would feel like to actually sleep with him. He didn't have any obscure fantasies of sliding inside of him, or vice versa. His cock was only interesting insomuch as it belonged to Colton, and therefore was attractive. He couldn't get it to mean something exciting when it came to, say, penetration.  
  
But...he wasn't gonna lie. Sucking him off had been sexy as hell.  
  
It was all in Colton's face and hands. His eyebrows, wrinkled with tension. His lips, parting as if he was about to burst into song. His fingers, tangling in Phil's hair like it was his lifeline. All of those things, and more, all combined until Phil had barely been able to keep his own hand out of his pants. He'd been addicted to the adrenaline. He'd been so turned on he could barely think straight. And when he'd broken away from Colton, gone to his room, he'd nearly cried out at the agonizing pain of it all, having to keep his hands to himself when somebody, _anybody_ , could just show up and burst into his bedroom.  
  
He drew in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to look at who was taking their turn at the moment. It was Skylar. He was next.  
  
“Earth to Phil,” Heejun said, waving his hand in front of Phil's eyes. “Helloooo? You still in there, best buddy?”  
  
Phil leaned away from Heejun's hand with a crinkled brow. “Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. You been talking long?”  
  
“Just for the past, I don't know, six hours or something.” Heejun adjusted his glasses. “You okay, man? You haven't been yourself the past couple of days.”  
  
Phil shrugged. “Y'know, things happen. Sometimes they just get you down or whatever.”  
  
Heejun narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “...I know what it is.”  
  
At that second Phil's heart just about stopped clean in his chest. “You do?”  
  
“Yeah. Hannah's still in your head, isn't she?”  
  
He'd never felt relief more palpably in his entire life. He exhaled sharply, and hoped that Heejun didn't really notice. “Yeah. Yeah, that's it.”  
  
“You decide what you're gonna do about her yet?”  
  
“No, I, uh...I've been trying to keep from thinking of her as much as possible, actually.”  
  
Heejun nodded. “I can understand that.” When he reached for Phil's cup of beer, Phil allowed it. “She's a good girl.”  
  
“Yeah, she is,” Phil murmured.  
  
“Beautiful, funny, sweet, honest...”  
  
Phil traced a pattern on the table in front of him.  
  
“...everything a guy could want.” Heejun took a drink of Phil's beer without a single touch of embarrassment, and Phil kept his eyes down. It was only when Heejun tapped the plastic cup on the table near his finger that he glanced up again. “So why is it...that you still don't know what you're gonna do?”  
  
Like he could make Heejun understand. His fingers closed into a slow fist. “She broke up with me. Remember? Doesn't that kind of mean she's the one who's supposed to make the decision or whatever?”  
  
“Did you forget everything Elise told you?”  
  
He didn't want to talk about Elise right now.  
  
“The only way Hannah's gonna take you back is if you do something to prove you changed. Now, look, she's not gonna be all easy to romance and whatever for long. She's _lonely_ right now, just like you are, and that means you've gotta jump before she gets set in her ways.”  
  
He felt his teeth slowly beginning to clench.  
  
“You gotta move before somebody else snatches her up, man.”  
  
He came to his feet so fast that he knocked his knee against his chair, but he didn't even acknowledge it. “My turn,” he muttered as he stalked past Heejun to the ball holder.  
  
It took him a few moments to realize that Heejun wasn't calling him back or following him or anything. Hell, he didn't even seem to care that Phil had left the table. Phil heaved his ball into his hands and tested the weight of it, rolling it around in his palms as he tried to breathe. He felt like he could crush it into powder if he tried.  
  
“C'mon, Phil,” Erika teased nearby him. Her voice swam a little in the air, like he was in a dream. “You scared you're gonna throw another gutter ball?”  
  
He glanced toward her. “I'll make you eat those words,” he mouthed off, his eyes drifting over all the ladies until they fell on Heejun again. He held his gaze for a long moment before striding forward and sending his ball flying.  
  
His first strike all night.  
  
~~  
  
“I think I need a shower,” Elise eventually murmured against Colton's chest, and he glanced down at her with a quirked brow.  
  
“How many showers are you gonna take today?” he asked with a small smile.  
  
She lifted her wrist and bumped it against his nose, and he breathed in. “I don't know, you tell me. How do I smell?”  
  
There was still the scent of lilacs. He turned his head on instinct to brush his cheek over her forearm, pressing a soft kiss against a vein he saw, but the closer contact let him smell the deeper smell of her: the sweat, the musk, everything left over from their...their what? Their tryst? He didn't know what to call it. He met her eyes and quirked a brow. “I see your point.”  
  
She ruffled her hand through his hair with a smirk before she pushed herself to her feet. “You should probably get one yourself, you know. Your hair's pretty flat.”  
  
He touched his hair self-consciously. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” And the smirk widened. “We could always shower together. Save the hot water.”  
  
His veins thrummed again, but he looked away and bit his bottom lip for a moment. “I, uh...” And then he remembered. “Wait. Teasing, right?”  
  
“Now you're getting it.” She patted the back of his head gently, affectionately, before she started walking away. “I'll let you know when it's your turn.”  
  
He watched her walk away, but a quiet bit of guilt kept him from staring for too long. She'd scarcely made it inside before Colton stood up and stretched, soothing his weary muscles from where he'd clenched them so tightly before. It didn't take him long to realize that he really didn't want to be out here – not alone, at least – and he made his way to the door as well, kicking off some sand on the welcome mat before he came indoors.  
  
The shower was already running, and he kept his head turned far away from the bathroom. He wandered to the farthest corner he could get from it, to the door of the living room, where he paused in the doorframe, his fingers tracing the curve of the frame as he tried to decide whether he should go in or not.  
  
Someone had picked up the shot glasses. The bottle of alcohol was missing, presumably back in the kitchen, though the glasses had been left behind, maybe in a show of stubbornness from Hollie to make someone _else_ clean up, for a change. It was a little safer now. He tentatively picked his steps across the carpet.  
  
His eyes wandered all around the room, taking in the couches, the chairs, the coffee table, the fireplace, even little things like Erika's book and Phil's guitar. He paused beside that instrument, his hand shaking a little as he reached toward it, before he let his fingertips brush one of the strings tightly stretched across the bridge.  
  
 _”...feeling the strings give under your pick...and the vibrations that shake you to the ground...”_  
  
He plucked his finger over one of the strings and felt it ring beneath the pads of his fingers, felt it quiver as a dull note sounded in the air. It needed to be tuned. He hadn't seen Phil play the thing the whole time they'd been here. He gave another experimental pluck and shivered at the way the note rang in his ears.  
  
Just beyond the guitar was the keyboard Schyler had pushed him into bringing. She knew how it was for all of them. She knew music knit them together more than words or actions ever could. She'd wanted him to spend some time collaborating with them, writing something, even if it was something useless that had no rhyme or reason to it, and he hadn't contributed to any of that, he realized. It was Elise that played his keyboard, her elegant fingers curling to make perfect chords, inverting them at will, proving she knew a little more than she attested to, while Heejun pretended he knew how to play guitar and Erika or Hollie or Skylar took turns singing. They had a blast, and Phil and Colton sat on opposite sides of them room, smiling and having a good time.  
  
Why were they so afraid to play?  
  
He hesitated, curling his fingers inward in indecision, before he reached for the keyboard instead.  
  
You couldn't seriously pursue being a pianist for very long before you learned a thing or two about keyboards. A poor college student, for example, would probably buy what was called an unweighted keyboard, one whose keys gave beneath his fingers like paper. The bored celebrity looking for a new hobby, however, would buy a weighted one, with keys very firmly in place, like playing an actual grand piano that she had to fight with if she wanted to charm out something soft instead of loud. But Colton liked something down the middle of the road, something that only fought him for a moment before surrendering to the push and pull of his fingertips.  
  
No wonder he and Phil had compared the feeling of playing an instrument to something erotic. It was hard for him to equate it with anything else now, in fact. Maybe that was why he was suddenly so afraid to touch the keys.  
  
Who was he kidding? He was afraid of it _all_. But maybe that wasn't an excuse anymore, not after he'd jumped in headfirst. He pulled the keyboard over to the couch, he sat, and he turned it on.  
  
He didn't know what he wanted to play, not really, but his fingers felt numb, like he had to spur sensation into them somehow or lose them altogether. He started by pressing keys randomly with his index finger, but it was boring to play if there was no melody to be heard. But something caught his ear, then, simple as it was: a minor third. He'd always liked that melodic progression. La to Do in solfege. He pressed it again. And then the step above it. La-Do-Re. He held them all down and shivered at the dissonant chord it made. He knew it instantly as a suspension, that his pinkie finger wanted to slide just one key higher to resolve it, but he made himself sit there and he made himself listen to how hauntingly beautiful it was.  
  
Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been afraid. His fingers knew what to do.  
  
He began to play, a meaningless trail of chords building off of that one suspension, progressing naturally from one into the next without any hesitation. It'd been a while since he'd let himself do this, just feel the music. He'd never be able to recall the chords again, he thought, but right now, they sounded beautiful.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he played, but when Elise softly said “What's that?” he jolted away from the keyboard like it had burned him. She was standing in the doorframe, draped against it, her hair hanging straight with how wet it was, though he knew it'd begin to curl as it dried. She'd changed clothes into a lovely tangerine sundress, and she was so beautiful, glowing with the warmth of the shower and shimmering slightly from her lotion, that she quite literally took his breath away.  
  
What was it that had changed? She had always been so beautiful. He just hadn't ever really appreciated it, had he?  
  
“What were you playing?” she tried again, and he licked his lips since he realized that they were suddenly dry.  
  
“I, uh...I don't know, actually. I was just playing.”  
  
She nodded, eyes flitting to the keyboard. “I envy you,” she murmured with a small smile. “I can't do things like that.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Just play. Just trust my mind and my fingers to create something interesting.”  
  
He arched his eyebrows. “You know more than you think you do. I've heard you play. You make beautiful progressions sometimes.”  
  
“Yeah, _sometimes_ , but you do it _all_ the time. It's just an accident when it happens with me. And that's okay,” she said with a chuckle. “I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm just being honest: I envy what you can do.”  
  
“Well, maybe I envy what you can do with your voice.”  
  
“Maybe?” she teased, quirking a brow.  
  
“ _Definitely_. You've got this growl to your tone that's just...it's...”  
  
“...it's what?”  
  
“It's _sexy_ ,” he pressed, spreading his arms. “It's incredible. I love listening to it.”  
  
She dropped her head a little, just enough to look at him through her long eyelashes, and pursed her lips a little. “You like it when I talk like this?” she murmured huskily, a slightly rough edge to her voice.  
  
A tongue of fire licked its way down his entire spine, neck to butt, and he felt goosebumps explode over his arms. He gulped. “I, uh...”  
  
“I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I seduce you,” she laughed. “I'm sure as hell not getting anywhere just being myself, that's for sure.”  
  
He looked away and tried not to smile, tried to ignore the burst of pleasure that rose in the base of his stomach. “You don't have to do that.”  
  
“I don't _have_ to do anything, Dixon,” she murmured. “But that doesn't mean I don't want to.”  
  
He exhaled sharply at even the thought of it, that she /wanted/ to do things with him. It blew his mind. He leaned forward and tented his hands, resting his lips against them. “...Elise, what's going to happen with us?” he asked softly, a little afraid to even look at her.  
  
She was quiet, and then she came in to sit on a chair. “I guess that's up to you, really.”  
  
“It is?”  
  
She shrugged. “I mean, when it comes right down to it, if you liked what you and Phil did, if he wanted to...do that _more_...then I guess you'd have to-”  
  
“Choose between you?” he asked.  
  
Elise sighed. “I don't know why you have to choose at _all_. Or why anything would need to get _serious._ ”  
  
He stared at her. He couldn't even begin to explain why it was important that it got serious. But right now he felt a vague sense of disappointment, a vat in his chest, and he didn't know how to verbalize that either, that Elise made it sound like she and Phil really _had_ been competing for him, that his feelings hadn't mattered either way since they both got what they wanted. He licked his lips again. “...because...I want it to be.” He slowly shook his head. “I-I can't just...go around sleeping with people, Elise. I can't.”  
  
She wrinkled her brow. “You slept with me. You let Phil give you a blowjob.”  
  
“Yeah, but that's not...that's not what I do. That's not me. It was just a fluke.”  
  
Now she was the one staring at him. “You liked it, didn't you?”  
  
“Elise-”  
  
“If you liked it, how could it be a fluke? Maybe that's just the way it's supposed to be.”  
  
“Maybe for you, and maybe for Phil, but not for me. I just can't do that again.”  
  
“But _why?_ Don't you have a reason?”  
  
“Because I _can't!_ ” he pressed.  
  
She slid forward and fell onto her knees, just a short distance away from him, and he sucked in a sudden gasp. Her eyes were burning and her cheeks were flushed, and God, if she didn't look like a goddess right then... “Something tells me that it's not a matter of can or can't. Because if I crawled over there right now, on my hands and knees, and pulled your zipper down with my teeth, and licked you from base to tip like a popsicle, I know you'd be begging me not to stop. And you'd come in my mouth. And I'd swallow it all down. And you wouldn't regret a second of it. Because you don't regret sleeping with me. Do you?”  
  
Every inch of his flesh was burning, and he could feel shame flaking over him from just how turned on he suddenly was. He wasn't hard, not yet – he was still cooling off – but he was buzzing with so much energy that he wouldn't be surprised if he alone raised the temperature of the room by a few degrees. And that was wrong.  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
“Do you regret sleeping with me?” Elise pushed firmly.  
  
Weren't she and Phil just a pair? He looked away and ran a hand down his face, taking deep breaths.  
  
She seemed to recognize what she was putting him through, because something softened in her then. “I'm not trying to attack you, Colton. I'm really not. I just...I want you to understand we didn't do anything wrong. Neither did you and Phil. And if it happened again, it _still_ wouldn't be wrong.”  
  
He wanted to nod, to reassure her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  
  
“Sexuality is natural. Okay? It is. It's the most natural thing in the world. And anyone who tries to tell you anything different can just shove it up their-”  
  
“I couldn't choose between you and Phil.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“I just couldn't, Elise. Please don't make me try,” he whispered.  
  
She leaned back an inch, but that distance suddenly seemed like a mile, and he felt something crack inside of him. He didn't know what to do with it.  
  
“And since I...since I can't...maybe it's better if nothing else happens, you know?”  
  
She flinched. She curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself, and he tried to figure out exactly what that meant. It wasn't easy.  
  
“I-I'm not saying that... _definitively_. Something could still happen. But I just...I don't know what I want right now. And I definitely don't want to feel like I have to choose between your friendship and his.” Because it was true. Right now, if someone forced him to choose over fear of death, he wouldn't be grappling between romance with either of them. That was still fresh. New. Unexpected. What he'd be wrestling with would be the years of friendship they had between them, the platonic bonds that were there that he didn't know if any of them would ever be able to sever. The sensuality that had sparked between him and Phil, and him and Elise, was, in a way, just a bonus that he'd never planned to have.  
  
He and Elise stared at each other for long seconds of silence before she opened her mouth to speak, but as if on cue they heard the front door open. They both turned to look, and Colton had to admit that he wasn't too surprised when Phil came into the living room.  
  
He flicked his eyes over both of them, his lips thinning, before he nodded. “The, uh...the rest of them are on their way in. I just wanted to make sure you both...”  
  
He knew. Phil knew, didn't he? Colton looked back at Elise, his eyes widening, feeling a slow sense of horror growing in his stomach.  
  
“If you're still pulling the sick routine, you might wanna get back to your room,” Phil murmured.  
  
Phil was right. And right now, Colton didn't know if he wanted to be near Elise in the first place. He brushed past her in his haste to get out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest.


	22. Chapter 22

Elise stared after Colton, taking a step to go after him when Phil stepped into her path. She snapped her eyes to meet his and frowned.  
  
“How was he?” Phil asked. His breath stank of beer.  
  
She lifted her chin. “I don't know what you're talking about.”  
  
When he quirked his brow, she fell back, losing the step she'd taken. “Oh yeah, I bet you don't have a damn clue.”  
  
“How was bowling?” she asked quickly, but not a single thing changed on Phil's face. She knew that look. It was the look that always crossed his face just before he mounted the stage on Idol. He was a man on a mission. And nothing was getting in his way.  
  
He took a few steps toward her, and God help her, but she held her ground. She held it even when he loomed over her, just an inch or two away from being flush against her, when she couldn't even figure out if she was getting intimidated or turned on. “I hope you were careful. 'Cuz these guys aren't idiots. They'll find out what's going on if you make even one wrong move.”  
  
“And what about you?” she whispered. “How long until they figure out what you did?”  
  
He flinched. He had more to lose, he and Elise both knew that. He didn't have a girlfriend, not anymore, but he had his fame. He had his good name. He was a good old boy from Southern Georgia, and the second he did anything to besmirch it he would be giving up everything: his career, his reputation, even the respect of those he knew and loved. “You don't know what you're talking about.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” She narrowed her eyes. “Things are progressive in, say, Boston, or New York, but what about Leesburg, Phil? How many people are gonna love you and accept you if they found out you were giving out blowjobs like three seconds after your girlfriend dumped you? What'll your parents say? Your pastor?”  
  
“You've got some things you could lose too, you know.”  
  
“I can get away with it. Nobody knows who I am anymore. If I sleep with random guys, nobody's gonna give a shit, but you-”  
  
“It wasn't a random guy,” Phil hissed out through gritted teeth. “It was Colton. Great job, Elise. Great fucking job.”  
  
“What're you whispering about?”  
  
Heejun. When the hell had Heejun come in? What had he heard? Elise tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at the floor, locking her other arm around her waist.  
  
She heard Phil take in a deep breath before he turned and looked at Heejun. “Colton's sleeping, she said. I didn't wanna wake him up.”  
  
“I think you already did that,” she muttered.  
  
“Well, should somebody go check on him?” Heejun asked.  
  
“No,” Phil said quickly. “No, I think we should just let him sleep.”  
  
“But then he won't sleep tonight!”  
  
 _He wasn't gonna do that anyway._  
  
“I mean, he's gotta be feeling pretty okay if he pulled out the keyboard, y'know? You and him have a sing-a-long, Elise?”  
  
“No, that was me. I was just practicing.” She looked up at Heejun and forced a smile, approaching him to give him a quick hug around the shoulders. “So. Who won?”  
  
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “The girls. All three times. It was a travesty to manhood, I'm telling you.”  
  
“Well, you should be glad I wasn't with you, then. I promise I would've made it ten times worse.” The smile turned wry and bitter. “I screw up everything.”  
  
“Pssh. Not everything. If I remember right, you pulled Phil's butt out of the trash just about eighty times on Idol. Am I right, Ph- hey, where'd he go?”  
  
Elise looked over her shoulder. He was gone.  
  
~~  
  
“You stupid bitch,” he whispered. Phil stared down at the used condom in the trashcan, the rumpled chairs, the hoodie laying on the floor by the table, and he was torn between throwing up and chucking the chairs out the window.  
  
He should've known she wasn't gonna be careful. Even if he hadn't had any idea of what was going on between them, she would have wanted him to find out, wouldn't she?  
  
But what was she trying to prove?  
  
He set the chairs back up. He shoved the hoodie under one of the couch cushions and sat to be sure it was undetectable. And then he bundled up the trashbag and tried to calm himself before he made the long eventual journey downstairs to dispose of it.  
  
It wasn't easy for him to figure out why he was so angry in the first place. He didn't have a claim on either of these people. He couldn't even decide if he was jealous over them and, if so, which one actually owned his jealousy. All he knew was that he felt sick inside, and that wasn't helpful at all.  
  
The worst part was there was a small, fledgling part of himself that was reminding him that, when it came right down to it, Hannah knew him better than he knew himself. And she'd be able to pick apart exactly what was bothering him within minutes.  
  
He kicked one of the chairs over again with a growl.  
  
No, what was important right now was Colton and Elise and how he felt about them. _That_ was what he had to focus on. Otherwise he wasn't gonna get anywhere, and he knew it.  
  
He knew that Elise made his blood light on fire. He knew that Colton made him feel safe. He couldn't decide which was better. He couldn't decide which one had a bigger hold on him.  
  
He couldn't decide what he was gonna do if they hooked up and kicked him to the curb. How did one just become the friend after one had been with both of them? How would he just be the third wheel, the one on the sidelines, the one that never got anywhere with anyone? It didn't make sense.  
  
He couldn't think. His brain felt a little too smooth, like the beer had made it flat and taken out all those important little brain grooves that helped it consider. He wrapped his arms around himself and walked to the window, looking out over the ocean.  
  
He'd been here, what, four days? Was that really how long it took to create a world of chaos out of what had once been ordered and made sense? It had taken God at least six to do the opposite.  
  
He couldn't be stuck in limbo. He had to make it all make sense. And he would, the first chance he got.  
  
~~  
  
“How is she, Mom?” Colton murmured into the phone.  
  
He heard his mom smile in the way she shaped her words. “She's fine. She's recovering from surgery.”  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh, both one of relief and one of shame that he wasn't there to take care of her. “Do they think they got it this time?”  
  
“The lymph nodes are tricky, Colt. They had to take a lot more than they thought they'd have to.”  
  
“So what does that mean for her?”  
  
She sighed. “Well...she has to wear a medical bracelet, just to be safe, and carry a card for the rest of her life. It'll let doctors know in the event of an emergency that they can't take blood from her left arm.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
“It'd kill her.”  
  
He exhaled sharply and rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus.”  
  
“But I think she's going to be fine. The doctors say they'll check on how her stitches are healing in a few days, and if they're good, they can start putting together a schedule for chemo.”  
  
“So they got it all.”  
  
“So it seems.”  
  
He hated having to hear the exhaustion in his mom's tone. She had less hope now, less blind optimism. This cancer had already broken two or three plans that she had made. Better to move one step at a time now. “Can I talk to her?”  
  
“She's asleep, Colt. It's pretty late, you know?”  
  
He glanced toward the clock. It was already midnight here. That meant it was eleven o'clock there. Schyler had never been one to go to bed super early, but maybe surgery was more exhausting than he'd thought. That thought struck him as particularly stupid – she'd been hacked open how many times now? Of _course_ she was exhausted. “Yeah. I hope I didn't wake you.”  
  
She sighed again. “I don't sleep much these days. The curse of being a mom, you know?”  
  
He rested his chin on his knees. “Yeah. I'm sorry, Mom.”  
  
“Don't apologize, Colton. I wouldn't trade being a mom for anything. And this time that Schyler's going through, it's just there to teach us something. You know?”  
  
Oh, he'd been taught a lot of things. A whole lot of things. He bit his bottom lip. “Yeah.”  
  
“You going to bed soon, son?”  
  
“Yeah, I'm gonna try. I love you, Mom.”  
  
“I love you too, sweetie.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
As he hung up the phone, he glanced toward his closed bedroom door. It was quiet outside. He found it hard to believe that everyone would be in bed already, but maybe they'd tired themselves out when they were bowling.  
  
It was funny, actually. He'd come down because Schyler had wanted him to see everybody, and here he was avoiding them at almost all times.  
  
 _Tomorrow,_ he thought. He'd turn over a new leaf tomorrow. Right now he didn't want to do anything but sleep. He was exhausted. His whole _body_ was exhausted. But his mind was awake, and he had a feeling that it was going to be what he had to fight with if he wanted to fall asleep any time soon.  
  
He'd start with getting ready for bed. Teeth to brush. Face to wash. Maybe even a shower, since he never got that one earlier. However long it took to chill him out.  
  
However long it took to make him so tired he'd fall asleep without thinking. Because he'd thought way too much today, and it hadn't done him any good.  
  
 _You're thinking again._  
  
He squinted his eyes shut and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a sigh. None of that. He shoved himself to his feet and wandered down to the bathroom, where he could scrub everything away.


	23. Chapter 23

She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take just sitting here on her bed, thinking about Colton, thinking about Phil, thinking about every damn man back home, and /especially/ thinking about...about...  
  
“Elise?”  
  
Elise snapped her eyes toward Erika.  
  
“You okay, girl?” Erika furrowed her eyebrows. “You've been reading that same page for ten minutes now.”  
  
Elise glanced back down at her book. Erika had lent her a romance novel, but she couldn't even get off the fifth page. It wasn't doing a thing for her. “Yeah, I just...” She sighed. “I've got some stuff on my mind.”  
  
Erika winced. “I'm not surprised.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I heard Phil and Hannah broke up. I was wondering if it was gonna get to you.”  
  
Elise sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers caught on the tangles. She hadn't brushed it since she'd first gotten out of the shower that day. “I mean, that's...that's part of it, you know? But not all of it.”  
   
“You wanna talk?” Erika asked, setting her own book aside.  
  
There was nothing worse than realizing you couldn't tell your best friend in the house precisely why you were so upset in the first place. She narrowed her eyes in thought as she curled up into a little ball. And then she began to speak. “You know that Phil and I spent a night together on the show, right?”  
  
Erika nodded. “Yeah?”  
  
“Well...okay, maybe it's stupid, but ever since then, I always thought that if something went totally wrong with him and Hannah...I'd be the first person he came to. I'd be the girl he ended up with.”  
  
Erika's eyes widened. “Is Phil talking to another girl? Who, Hollie?”  
  
“No, no.” Elise waved Erika off. “Hollie likes Colton. No, he's not...talking to _any_ girl.” That was safe enough. “And it makes me feel...weird. Because shouldn't he and I really be hitting it off right about now?”  
  
Erika pursed her lips in thought. “Well, Elise, the boy's gotta mourn, right? He was with that girl for I don't even know how long-”  
  
“Five years.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, and that means it's gonna take a lot of time for him to put himself back together again. If anything, I'd be grateful he's taking the time to really try to get over her.”  
  
“But that's not like him,” Elise pressed. “Maybe it _was,_ but it isn't _now_. I don't know what happened, but he's...he's more _impulsive_ now. He's more passionate. Maybe more stressed.”  
  
“Well, fame can do that to a guy. Especially when it comes on out of nowhere. Phil's had a lot of demands put on him, remember? That could change anybody.”  
  
“But that impulsiveness means that he should have...” She trailed off, remembering Phil's arms wrapping around her, his lips exploring her neck, the fear inside of her that Heejun was going to open the door up again at any minute. “...should have...come after me...”  
  
“Maybe you're just giving him the wrong signals.”  
  
She'd screwed it up. She'd screwed it all up, hadn't she? In her desire to have Phil pursue her – to _really_ pursue her, in a way that he wasn't even pursuing _Hannah_ , for God's sake – she'd pushed him away. And he'd fallen right on top of Colton.  
  
This was her fault. Everything that happened to Colton from here on out was all her fault. And the whole reason she and Phil weren't making nice was because she was too damn stubborn to just take the boy when she had the chance.  
  
“Oh, goddamn it,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes.  
  
“Elise? What's wrong?”  
  
“I just...God, you made me remember something, Erika. Shit, I really screwed something up.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“I can't. I-I...I can't. Not right now. Jesus.” She came to her feet and grabbed her bathrobe, wrapping it around herself. “I need to go think.”  
  
“Think? Elise, it's after midnight. Where are you going? Do you want me to go with you?”  
  
She shook her head. She was shaking more than that. “No, it's okay. I just...I'm gonna go out back. On the beach. The ocean, it...it always helps me think.”  
  
“Elise, I'm worried about you!”  
  
“Don't worry. Everything will be better by tomorrow, I promise. Okay? I-I just need to be alone right now.”  
  
“...okay.”  
  
Elise shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, pressing her hands to her mouth. This was all her fault. She was going to lose Phil to Colton. No, she was going to lose Colton to Phil. No, goddamn it, she was going to lose them _both_ , and Colton was going to get hurt, because Phil seemed to have the overwhelming desire to make everybody that loved the hell out of him feel like shit without even meaning to.  
  
She had to talk to Colton. She had to do it now, before tomorrow came up and things went even more downhill.  
  
She made her way down the hallway. She didn't look to make sure that everybody was asleep. She didn't even knock. She had too many other things on her mind. She came to Colton's door, opened it, and stepped inside. “Colton, look, I-”  
  
It wasn't Colton.  
  
As Phil turned around to look at her, her heart skipped a beat in her chest. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a growl from lack of sleep.  
  
She quietly shut the door behind her, facing it as she did so, and tried to collect herself. “...where's Colton?” she asked softly.  
  
“I don't know. I came here looking for him, but I, uh...I think he's in the shower or something.”  
  
Phil was here. Phil had beaten her to him. If that didn't just beat all. She touched her forehead to the door and breathed out a soft sigh.  
  
“So. You're not gonna tell me what you're doing here, huh?” he asked.  
  
“I could ask you the same thing.”  
  
Phil chuckled. It was just husky enough to make her tighten her grip on the doorknob. “Something tells me you're here for the same reason I am.”  
  
“Shit,” she whispered.  
  
“A little love, a little romance, a little sex...yeah. Apparently there's something about that Dixon boy that's got us both hooked.”  
  
“You weren't supposed to get hooked on him,” she muttered.  
  
“Oh yeah? Well, I guess I did, didn't I? Though, uh, really, _you_ were the one who actually slept with him, so I guess you got him a little more than I did-”  
  
“You got to him first.” She glanced over her shoulder.  
  
He spread his arms wide. “I couldn't help myself. You've seen the way he looks just as he's about to give in.”  
  
She had. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget it.  
  
“Are you jealous?” he asked.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “You're playing with me, aren't you?”  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“You're just...you're acting like a jerk because you're playing with me. Like a cat with a mouse.”  
  
Phil chuckled again. “I'm not acting like a jerk. I'm acting like-”  
  
“Stop it. Just stop it. Stop talking. How much did you drink tonight?”  
  
“Don't try to make this all after-school-special, Testone. I drank a couple of beers at the bowling alley, and that's it. At this point it's pretty much out of my system.”  
  
Then there wasn't any other reason, was there? He was acting this way only because he was angry about something. Or maybe he was the jealous one instead.  
  
Elise turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Phil, tell me something...why, when you had the choice, did you go after Colton instead of get back together with Hannah?”  
  
He narrowed his eyes slowly. “What?”  
  
“I just wanna know. When you have an almost perfect girl like her, why would you give her up?”  
  
He was beginning to shake his head. “I don't wanna talk about Hannah right now.”  
  
“Well, there's no Colton here for you to seduce, is there? So you're stuck with me. And that means that you're gonna have to talk. Why did you just leave things with her like that?”  
  
“You don't know a damn thing about it, okay? You don't.”  
  
“Then help me figure it out, why don't you? I just wanna know if you're gonna be able to go suck Colton off again if you've got that woman in your head. She loved you, Phil. She loved you to death. Hell, she probably still does.”  
  
“Elise-”  
  
“In fact, I'm pretty sure if you just picked up the phone right now and called her, she'd come right back into your arms.”  
  
“ _Elise_.”  
  
“But no, you wanna be with Colton instead? Is that it? You kiss him once, and suddenly, bam, you're gonna be with him for the rest of your life?”  
  
“I don't have a choice,” he growled.  
  
“You had me!” she hissed, and damn if that didn't shut Phil up in a second. “You fucking had _me_ , you _idiot!_ ” And goddamn it, but there were tears in her eyes, and for once she didn't want him to see them, but she couldn't look away, because for what felt like the first time since she'd run from his room he was _looking_ at her, and she didn't wanna give that up. “...what the hell was wrong with _me?_ ”  
  
Phil furrowed his eyebrows. He licked his lips. “...you told me to figure my shit out.”  
  
She blinked.  
  
“You practically told me you weren't interested. You told me you didn't-”  
  
“I just didn't wanna be a rebound, Phil,” she pressed. “And now look what you did. You made Colton your rebound instead. Great fucking job, Phillips.”  
  
They stared at each other. And then he drew in a deep breath through his nose, and his eyes began to smolder. “That's not what I meant when I said I don't have a choice,” he whispered. “What I meant was...I...” His hands were shaking, she realized. “Goddamn it, I can't even put the fucking thing into words.”  
  
“Just try, Phil. _Try_. I _need_ to understand.”  
  
“But I can't make you understand. _I_ don't even understand!” He reached out and touched her shoulders, his hands as gentle as his eyes were intense. “I've wanted to be with you again for as long as I can remember. But when I think about being with you now, there's something...”  
  
Normally Elise prided herself on understanding everything about the people she cared about. She prided herself on being able to guide them through everything, on being able to know them better than they knew themselves. She could finish their sentences. But she couldn't finish Phil's tonight, even when she thought she understood that look in his eyes more than anything: passion tinged with desperation.  
  
Right now the only thing she understood was that he was touching her. And she didn't want him to stop.  
  
Phil looked ready to try again. “Thinking about you and Colton being together today, I...God, Elise, it made me _sick_. But I couldn't figure out why. I still can't. But I know half of it is imagining him touching you, him inside you, him making you feel a thousand times better than I ever did-”  
  
“He didn't, Phil.”  
  
Phil was quiet.  
  
She shook her head slowly. “It was wonderful being with him. I'm not gonna lie and say it wasn't. But, I mean, I took his virginity. It wasn't like he was some...bonafide sex god right out of the gate. That's ridiculous. Nobody is.”  
  
Phil tilted his head. “Did he...make you come?”  
  
Colton's anxiety about the whole thing came back to her, and she couldn't help but smile. “No. He wanted to, but he, uh...he was a little distracted.”  
  
What started as a spark in Phil's eyes was turning into an inferno, and it took her breath away. He traced his gaze over her face, down her neck, along her breasts, and every sense of hers became keener until she swore that she could feel his eyes like an extra pair of hands. She shivered, and he snapped his gaze right back up to hers. And it was then that she knew that he wasn't going to stop touching her, not for a damn long time. And she was okay with that.  
  
He grabbed her around the waist and, eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, slowly walked her backward until he pressed her against the wall. “I'm going to make love to you...” he murmured, sliding his hand down to grab her thigh. “...and worship you...” He lifted her thigh to wrap her leg snugly around his hip. “...the way you deserve.”  
  
Elise sucked in a sharp breath when he pressed the beginnings of his hardness against her. “Phil, it's not a competition-” she began, but both whirled their heads around when the door opened.  
  
It was Colton.  
  
 _Of all times_ , she thought. But though she and Phil were cheek-to-cheek now, neither said anything or moved. They simply stared at him, and he stared back.  
  
The strangest emotions were going across his face. There was a moment of surprise, yes, but it quickly bled into sadness, and finally acceptance. He exhaled slowly. “You couldn't find another bedroom?” he asked quietly.  
  
Her heart broke clean in her chest. “Colton...”  
  
“No, never mind, I get it. It's the only king-sized bed in the whole place, and that's gotta be better than...a flimsy card table or something.”  
  
Okay, that wasn't fair.  
  
“Don't worry, I'll just...I'll go sleep on the couch. You guys have fun,” he murmured as he took a step back.  
  
Phil suddenly broke away from her and pointed at Colton. “Don't you dare.” And then he stalked toward him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him inside the room, shutting the door behind him. “Don't you even think about leaving.”  
  
Elise's eyes were wide now, and she touched a hand to her chest, feeling a flicker of fear. “Phil, don't-”  
  
“No, Elise, he's not going anywhere.”  
  
“Why?” Colton asked, lingering near the far wall, keeping all that ridiculous distance between them even though all Elise wanted to do was go wrap her arms around him.  
  
Phil chewed on his lip as he looked between them. Agitation was flaking off of him like he was a wounded animal.  
  
“Phil...” Elise tried.  
  
“I don't know,” he whispered.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don't know!” He stamped his bare foot on the ground, and Elise watched the muscles in his arms bulge in tension. “All I know is he _can't leave_.”  
  
“Phil, you're being childish,” Elise murmured.  
  
“You had her up against the wall,” Colton said. He rubbed at his arm. “Clearly you were busy, and God knows I don't want to interfere with that.”  
  
Phil shoved his index finger in Colton's direction. “I came here for you.”  
  
Even though Elise felt something start to choke her, she shoved her chin in the air. “Then _I'll_ leave, and you can get back to it.”  
  
“No, you're not going anywhere either.”  
  
“You can't have us both!” Colton hissed.  
  
“ _Why?!_ ” Phil suddenly growled, whirling to face Colton so fast that Elise was sure he was going to hit him. And then he took a step back, breathing out a shaky sigh. “Oh, fuck.”  
  
Elise couldn't speak. She stared at him, worrying her hands together.  
  
Phil dragged a hand through his hair and looked down at the floor, breathing hard. “...I figured it out.”  
  
“Elise, what's he talking about?” Colton asked softly.  
  
“C'mon, Elise. Think. Just think.” Phil said softly. And so she tried. She looked at Colton, at the way he wore his emotions so obviously on his face, at the way he wore his clothes, and she felt something inside of her catch on fire. He was beautiful. Even in the midst of his pain, of his crisis, he was glorious.  
  
Phil touched a hand to her shoulder as he leaned toward her. “I don't make sense without you, Elise. Okay? I don't.” But he hesitated then and glanced toward Colton. And then he pointed straight at him. “But I don't make sense without him either.”  
  
She was too late. She'd lost him.  
  
Elise took a step back, touching a hand to her stomach and wondering at the feeling there. The sickness. The sadness. And yet something else. Something she couldn't quite identify, buried so deep beneath it all that she couldn't get a hold on it.  
  
Was she feeling betrayed? Or...  
  
She wasn't sure why she did it. She didn't know if it was because she wanted to change his mind. She didn't know if maybe she wanted to make him angry. But she felt remarkably lucid when she stepped forward, touched a hand to Phil's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Heat. Buzzing. A tornado of emotions ripping through her. Enough to suck the breath right out of her, to make her want to drive her nails into his back and hold him so close that he'd never get away.  
  
Phil was more than happy to lean into that kiss, to feed himself into it, and Elise was the one who broke it. But she stared right into Phil's eyes as she took a few steps to the side and captured Colton's hand. And then she turned to capture his lips instead.  
  
Whatever her plan had been, it backfired, because the second her lips touched Colton's an entirely new array of sensations whipped through her. Warmth. Safety. The need to crawl inside of Colton, to make him crawl inside of her, so both of them would be held together no matter what came their way.  
  
He was the one that stopped that kiss, but he didn't step away. He had an almost bruising grip on her arms, and he was looking into her eyes desperately, panting, eyebrows furrowing more with each passing second.  
  
“Oh,” she whispered weakly.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Colton whispered back. She bet that he was trying to be angry, but he looked too confused, too exhausted, to pull it off.  
  
Elise slowly shook her head as she backed away a few steps. “...Heaven.”  
  
Phil suddenly reached out and pulled Colton flush against him, leaning in to give him such a heady, passionate kiss that Colton leaned backward and only barely held his footing. Elise gasped and stepped back, trying to take it all in, trying to understand it, before she realized that it was impossible for her to comprehend. She heard the soft murmur, maybe even a moan, break from Colton's lips, and she shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.  
  
Phil pulled back from the kiss just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, almost baring his teeth in the intensity of his whisper. “Sit down, Elise, on the bed.”  
  
Her heart fluttered. “I-I...we need to think about this-”  
  
“No. No thinking. Not tonight. We've fucking thought _enough_ , and where the hell did that get us? Angry. Frustrated. Broken. No, I'm done with that, Elise. I'm done. I'm grabbing the bull by the horns.”  
  
Elise shook her head again, digging her nails into her palms with how hard it was to hold back the sheer intensity of the wave that was washing over her, pulling her down with the tide. “Phil, think of Colton-”  
  
“He's right here!” Phil hissed, gesturing to him. “For fuck's sake, Elise, talk to him yourself! Just look at him!” He touched Colton's arms, and even in that one movement she saw how gentle Phil was trying to be, how he didn't want to scare him off. “Tell me how you feel, Colton,” he quietly pressed.  
  
Colton gave a little breathless laugh, one that sounded slightly crazy to Elise's ears. “Scared out of my mind,” he whispered.  
  
“Good,” Phil whispered back.  
  
“Colton, you don't have to do anything,” Elise said, though she still wasn't sure if she was trying to keep Phil for herself or protect Colton or something else entirely. “You don't know, you don't have the experience that we-”  
  
“I know how it feels to want someone.” There was a quiet intensity in Colton's voice that made Elise's words stumble to a halt. “And I know how it feels when...when something's _right_.” His words hung in the air, quivering, making the air thick enough for Elise to taste, because Jesus, that was the first time any of them had even begun to acknowledge what the hell was going on here, to state what none of them were allowed to say. It was like he was speaking it into existence. When he locked eyes with her, she fought not to look away. “...I'm not going anywhere tonight.”  
  
Somewhere in the middle of his words, Phil had looped around behind him, and now he wrapped his arms tightly around Colton's torso and buried his face in his neck. And Jesus, did that boy look beautiful when he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and gasped out a surprised little sound. So quick to give himself up. So quick to surrender. Elise touched a fist to her lips, feeling her body try to contain itself.  
  
Phil's eyes opened to languid slits, pinning her with a lazy stare as he traced his tongue along Colton's skin before pulling away just a millimeter. “Help me, Elise,” he murmured.  
  
Whatever tenuous threads there were holding her secure, they snapped right then and there. Everything flew out the window, and she found herself crossing the room before she was even aware of her feet moving. The second she reached out and touched Colton's stomach through his t-shirt, she felt a shock run through her, an electric current that held her secure, that pulled her into their world, and she didn't hesitate to fall to her knees and peel up the hem of his t-shirt to expose the flesh of his stomach and hipbones, to her mouth. She showered him in kisses, listening to him become more and more overcome, and when her eyes finally slid shut and her hand cupped his rear end to press him closer to her she knew there was no way in hell anyone was leaving that room tonight.  
  
Phil's fingers brushed her cheek as he reached for Colton's shirt and disentangled it from her hold, as if he was thinking of ripping it off. “You've been through so much shit, haven't you?” she heard Phil whisper in that rough, breathy growl that she'd only heard when he was so turned on he was about to bury something inside of her, whether it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock, and she couldn't help but smile against Colton's skin at the thought of how he was going to lose his mind before the night was over. Even now the kid was tangling his fingers in Elise's hair and uttering a tortured moan. Phil was murmuring his words with a sing-songy flow directly against the shell of Colton's ear, and she could almost feel the wisps of hot air against her own. The kid didn't have a chance in hell of being immune to that tone. “Nobody to go through it with you, nobody to get it off your mind...well, my friend, you're not thinking a damn thing for the rest of the night, if I have anything to say about it.”  
  
Elise chuckled quietly before she flicked her tongue out and tasted the beginnings of sweat across Colton's smooth stomach. “Lucky boy,” she whispered.  
  
A desperate shiver wracked across Colton's entire body, and Elise dug her fingers into his thigh to keep him steady on his feet. She knew how unreliable those legs of his were now. “What are you gonna do?” Colton asked, and she had a feeling his voice would've cracked if he hadn't been whispering just like the rest of them.  
  
“Mm.” Phil brushed his nose against Colton's earlobe, nuzzling him. “What do you _want_ us to do?”  
  
Colton exhaled sharply, a quiet little cry that spoke of a thousand untold fantasies, desires, dreams, and Elise felt a momentary pang at how he'd been brought up, at how everything about his sensuality had no doubt been so tightly repressed and contained in a cage that he couldn't even imagine asking for anything. “I-I can't, Phil.”  
  
“Oh, I don't think you have a choice anymore, Colt,” Phil murmured with a little laugh. “You're not going anywhere tonight, remember?”  
  
“No, I'm not, but I _can't_ , it's _too much_ ,” he pressed. When Elise went back to peppering his skin with kisses, Colton reached out and held her still, beginning to shake his head. “Just _this_ is too much, and I-I...”  
  
“You what?” she asked, sliding her hand up and down his calf and thigh, letting her nails dig just slightly into his jeans.  
  
“I want it to _last_.” He sounded a little depressed, sullen, like he expected to be reprimanded. “I'm sorry.”  
  
This time when Elise laughed, she wasn't trying to be sexy or seductive. She couldn't help it. “Did you seriously just apologize for that?” she asked, craning her head to see his face better. His cheeks were flushed and he was biting his bottom lip, and she had a feeling that it had more to do with his embarrassment than how hard he was getting. “Your sexuality is your business, Colton. Don't you _ever_ apologize for it.”  
  
She remembered then what had finally loosened him up upstairs, what had been the thing that was easiest for him to ask for, and she came to her feet and gently took his face in her hands. When she kissed him this time, he responded, with his arms wrapping around her and a quiet, heartbreaking moan that he fed her.  
  
There was inexperience here, and it made Elise wonder just how many girls Colton had actually kissed in his life. How many girls had he taken the time to learn the lips of? How many girls had taught him a thing or two? And was he thinking of any of them right now when he was here with her and Phil? Or was his mind wiped clean of all his experiences just like hers was?  
  
Just like he had upstairs, Colton took charge when he was kissing her. He let his hands take their time with sliding onto her hips, squeezing them, before he guided her back toward the bed and leaned her back over it until she was forced to sit down, her arms locked around his neck for stability. She felt the mattress bend beside her just before Colton broke the kiss and let his eyes flit over to Phil, who was suddenly sitting nearby.  
  
“Then how do you want to make it last?” Phil asked, slowly lifting an eyebrow.  
  
Colton flicked his eyes between the both of them, and she could see him trying to make sense of it too. _Don't think_ , she wanted to say. _Don't try to figure it out. That just makes it ten times harder. Just turn yourself over to it._ But he swallowed then, collecting his thoughts, and nodded at Elise. “I want to blow her mind.”  
  
Elise's eyes widened a little. “What?”  
  
“You did so much for me upstairs,” Colton pressed. “I could've sworn that I was _dying_ from how good I felt. And I couldn't do a thing for you, could I?”  
  
“Colt, we talked about this,” she murmured, touching her hand to his cheek.  
  
“Yeah, maybe we did. But I'm not satisfied with that.” He leaned in, touching his hands to her thighs, and stared at her with those incredible big brown eyes of his. “I wanna make you feel good, Elise,” he whispered, and damn, but maybe he was taking lessons from Phil's tone, because it was almost a purr, and she felt his words brush over her skin and pull goosebumps out of her.  
  
She licked her lips. And then she shook her head. “You don't have to do that.”  
  
“I _know_ I don't,” Colton pressed, letting his hand slide to rest on top of hers. “But I _want_ to.”  
  
“But Colton-”  
  
“What's wrong with me wanting to do that?” he asked softly, furrowing his eyebrows. And that made her feel guilty, because he was only just starting to come out from the restrictions he'd been under his whole life. He was just now beginning to figure out his sexuality, his passions, all of it, and here she was making him feel like it was wrong. But she couldn't stop shaking her head.  
  
“She's afraid,” Phil murmured, and Elise snapped her eyes to meet his. “She's been afraid for a long time.”  
  
Elise scoffed. “That's ridiculous.”  
  
“Ridiculous, but true.” Phil quirked a brow. “With Elise, the truest things are always the ones that make the least amount of sense.”  
  
“I don't know about that,” Colton interjected.  
  
“Trust me, Colt, ever since she and I started hanging out on Idol, she's said and done some of the dumbest-”  
  
“I'm right here, you know,” she muttered, but it was hard to feel put out when there was at least just a little nugget of truth behind what Phil was saying.  
  
Phil gave her a little half-smile before reaching out and tucking a few curls behind her ear. “Look, Elise...we're here. And we want you.”  
  
“And we care about you.”  
  
“Yeah. So why not feel that? Why not...lose ourselves in it?”  
  
As the back of Phil's fingers trailed over her cheek, she let featherlight tingles spread through her. “Don't act like you're not scared of this,” she whispered. “Scared of eventually having to make a choice.”  
  
“I've made mine,” Phil pressed. “And Colton's made his. He's scared out of his mind, remember? But he's here. And so am I. And so are you. So stop trying to reason. Stop trying to be all logical. And stop trying to make us think you're not worth the time we're going to take spoiling you.” He smiled at her in a way that made her want to forget all her troubles and peel everything off right there. “'Cuz unless you tell me right now that you don't want it...every minute you try to stay strong is another hour we're gonna spend on you.”  
  
This didn't make sense. This wasn't how things were supposed to work. Everything in her entire _life_ had taught her that. And yet here it was. Here _they_ were. She could tell that Colton was trying not to scare her and that Phil was about to bust with everything that he was holding back, and that alone touched something deep inside of her, beneath the desperation and the lust and the desire. They were pushing her, but they were pushing her toward making a decision, and that was it. Nobody was being forced into anything. They weren't just gonna take what they wanted and leave her, were they? Was someone like, say, Colton even capable of doing that?  
  
And, when it came right down to it, when he was sober and clear-headed, was Phil?  
  
Elise glanced down at the bedspread, to the hand resting on top of hers and the leg just about to touch her own, and swallowed. And then she let herself leap. “Well then.” As her free hand grabbed the neck of her bathrobe and loosened it, she felt the temperature of the room soar. “I guess you'd better get started. You've got a lot of hours to cover.”  
  
Phil exhaled sharply. “No games, Elise. You tell me you want this right now, or nothing happens. I can't take a chance with either of you,” he said, glancing between her and Colt. “With this, there's no indecision, no confusion, nothing. I won't let you tell me later that I talked you into it.”  
  
“Oh my God, where's your sense of spontaneity?” Elise asked with teasing exasperation. She reached out and grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, pulling him so close that she could barely breathe without bumping noses with him. “I. Want. This. I want both of you. Now touch me, or die.”  
  
He sat up on his knees, rising over her, his hands hovering in indecision. “Where at?” Phil murmured.  
  
“Pick your favorite place,” she murmured back.  
  
Phil's eyes floated over her, taking inventory with a breathy chuckle. “There's a lot of those.”  
  
“Then you'll have to take your time, won't you?” She couldn't stop herself from grinning anymore. She slithered back to lay propped up with her elbows, her legs coyly crossed, and looked at Colton. “Colton, give this boy a lesson in taking what he wants, will you?”  
  
“Yes ma'am.”  
  
Phil laughed again and reached to grab Colton around the shoulder. “She's not a dominatrix, man.”  
  
Colton lifted both eyebrows. “I don't know. You should've seen her earlier. She was a little scary.”  
  
“I'll be scarier if you make me have to beg,” she said.  
  
“I'll bet it's kind of sexy when you beg,” Phil murmured. “I'll have to test that theory some other time.”  
  
Some other time. The promise of those three words threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
Phil flicked his eyes toward Colton. “All right, Colt. You ready?”  
  
He definitely did not look ready. He looked scared shitless. But it was a look that Elise was getting used to. Maybe being scared wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe it was what people like Colton needed to feel to push themselves over the edge. Colton licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. What do we do?”  
  
“Whatever we think the woman wants.” Phil traced his eyes over Elise's figure, like he was pinpointing weak spots. “Whatever will make her happy.”  
  
“I think you both missed the point where I wanted _you_ to be happy too?” Elise asked dryly.  
  
Phil waved her words off. “That's the easy part...because whatever makes you happy makes _us_ happy.”  
  
Colton nodded. He was looking at her too, but with the skittish eyes of a deer.  
  
“You had her last, buddy,” Phil said softly. “You mind if I lead off?”  
  
“Please do.”  
  
Elise stared at Phil as he let his eyes rest on her neck. He reached out and slid the collar of her bathrobe away, just enough to bare one of her shoulders, before he leaned in and brushed his nose over her pulse. “How is it,” he whispered, “that you always smell so damn good?” A shiver skittered down her spine. “Every time you've walked past me since that first trio, I've had to stop myself from just...eating you alive.”  
  
“Yeah?” she asked softly, reaching a hand to run through his short curls.  
  
“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “Do you know how many times I've wanted to pin you up against a wall and take you, right then and there?”  
  
Her eyes slid shut, memorizing the vibrancy of the images his words called up. “God, Phil, I wish you had.”  
  
“I could do that. Right here. Right now.”  
  
There was a scent of hairspray in the air, something that reminded her that they weren't alone. “Later,” she forced out. “You're the one that said...there'd be later.”  
  
“I plan on it.” His hand slid around her waist, pressing into her skin greedily through the bathrobe fabric. When his tongue shot out like a snake and tasted the way her pulse kickstarted, she gasped and dug her nails into his scalp. She felt Phil turn his head, felt his nose disappear from running along her neck. “I said I'd lead off, Colt, not do it alone.”  
  
“I don't mind watching,” she heard Colton say.  
  
Phil chuckled, the heat of his breath making her skin feel moist. “Well well, who knew our little Colton was a voyeur?” But then Phil was spreading her bathrobe open even further, letting the cool air from the whirling ceiling fan chill her overheated body through her tank top and shorts. “You remember how she tastes, don't you?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“I don't think you want to forget.”  
  
Her skin was starting to keen. The energy in the room was so electric, so charged, that not touching either of them felt like a punishment. “ _Please_ , Colt,” she whispered, opening her eyes to peer at him helplessly.  
  
It was a lucky thing that she did, actually, because she got to watch his face change for the first time from sheer terror to a sort of heady desperation, from a debate to a determination. He bit his bottom lip. And then he leaned forward, on his hands and knees, and hovered over her collarbone, breathing audibly. “This is so intimidating.”  
  
“You know how to make it stop being so intimidating?” Phil asked.  
  
“No, how?”  
  
“You practice. Religiously.”  
  
Colton nodded, not even flinching at the choice of words. “Yeah....yeah, you're...you're right. I'm gonna have to do this a lot to get any good at it, aren't I?”  
  
Elise couldn't help arching her back a little, bringing her breasts just a little closer to his chin. “I'd just like to say I'm perfectly happy to be your guinea pig for all that experimentation,” she said with a chuckle.  
  
Colton laughed too. “I'm glad to hear it.”  
  
Phil shifted so that his arm was wrapped around her, his hand propped up on the mattress. “I'll give you your first hint, man...get in a flow. Find a rhythm, and then just go with it. Your body'll know what to do. Just let it guide you.”  
  
“Let it guide me,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes in thought. He reached up and traced his index finger along her collarbone, which was so oversensitized at this point that she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from gasping. She had a feeling that he was studying her reactions like he studied the chords he charmed out of a keyboard, like she was his new thing to master, and Jesus, that was hot. When Colton's lips followed his finger, slowly descending in nibbling kisses toward the line of her cleavage, she let him draw a quiet moan out of her, her other hand reaching out to squeeze his own desperately.  
  
It didn't take long for Phil to follow Colton's lead, to go back to her neck, though he seemed almost desperate to taste her. What started as a few kisses turned into him taking his sweet, luxurious time with sucking on her skin.  
  
“If you leave a mark, Phil, I swear to God,” she gasped. She felt his lips spread in a tiny grin, though if anything he only sucked all the harder.  
  
How to express it? How to describe the way her mind was stretching, ripping in half, trying to understand both of these sensations at the same time when she'd only ever felt one? She felt her consciousness zipping back and forth from Colton to Phil and back to Colton again in a silent plea for it to end because Colton was _right_ , it was _too much_ , but damn, she couldn't tell them to stop, because if she did, she'd die right there on the spot, she knew she would. She heard Colton's breathing speeding up, growing more intense against her skin, with every inch he came closer to her breast, and she was about two steps away from whimpering if he didn't just take what he wanted already.  
  
Maybe unsurprisingly, Phil beat him to it. A shot of electricity burned Elise raw when Phil's fingers suddenly brushed against her nipple through her tank top, and the slow rubbing rhythm he set up sucked sharp little gasps out of her mouth. “That's how you like it, isn't it?” Phil whispered, his lips flush against her ear. “Two whole years, and I still remember exactly what you like. And I wasn't even sober. Just how much am I going to figure out this time, babe?”  
  
“Don't stop,” she asked, shaking her head. “Please don't stop.”  
  
He chuckled. “Mm, I knew I'd like it when you begged.”  
  
Colton had wandered a little south, sliding up her tank top just like she'd peeled away his shirt, and tickling her skin with almost identical kisses all over her stomach. It was incredible how her stomach, something that on any other day would make her cover up and self-conscious, was suddenly sexy, was so simple for her to let him bare. Maybe it was the lightning she was feeling, or maybe it was something in the air, but now that he was slowly nudging it up toward her ribs, she didn't want to hide it another minute. “Do you mind, Phil?” Colton asked.  
  
“Be my guest,” he murmured, his words sounding husky. “I've been dying to feel her skin again.” His fingers did have to disappear, but only for a moment. The second her breasts bounced free, he was gently trapping her nipple between his fingers, and that was enough for her to collapse on her back with a strangled cry. Phil took in a deep breath before letting it out quickly. “Holy shit, Elise, I forgot just how beautiful you are.”  
  
“I'd wager there's a lot of things you forgot,” she gasped. “Like just how wet I get?”  
  
Phil laughed, and he had to cover his mouth quickly with his other hand to keep it from getting any louder. They were already on thin ice here. The last thing they needed was to wake anybody up. “Excuse me, Miss Testone, but was that a leading question?”  
  
“Maybe,” she said with a grin.  
  
“You wanna do the honors, Colt?”  
  
“No no, you can. We'll switch.”  
  
Was it possible to die from arousal?  
  
Elise couldn't bear to have either of them touching her so little when she was feeling like this. This wasn't a cheap affair, not anymore. This wasn't just a body to keep her warm. She suddenly shot a hand out and touched Colton's knee. “I need to have you closer, Colton, please.”  
  
His eyes widened. “W-where at?”  
  
“Straddle my stomach.”  
  
“But you won't be able to breathe!”  
  
“You're like seventy pounds soaking wet, Colt! And your weight's not gonna be on me.” She tugged pathetically at his pajama pants. “You want a preview, don't you? Of what it's gonna look like, feel like, to make love to me in this position?”  
  
It shouldn't be so easy to manipulate men. Colton's cheeks flushed and his hands twitched. “...you sure you'll be able to breathe?”  
  
“Positive. Please, Colt. I just need you closer.”  
  
He was careful, tentative, but once he threw one leg over her side and settled in, murmuring a quiet little groan from the way he pressed against her, she had an incredible view. His long eyelashes were dusted against his cheeks. His lean torso rose above her like a tower. Even his thighs, slender as they were, seemed to possess just a little more muscular strength as they locked against her ribs. “Jesus,” he whispered.  
  
“You're telling me,” she agreed.  
  
His hands rested gently against her stomach, so softly that they almost tickled her. “You can't even see Phil when I'm like this, though.”  
  
“Oh, trust me, buddy,” she heard Phil say, “she's not gonna be forgetting I'm here.”  
  
“I always forget how tall you are.” She smiled up at him. She traced her fingertips over his bare arms, ghosting along his forearms and pausing at the swell of his biceps. “Can you even kiss me from up there?”  
  
He exhaled slowly. “I can try.”  
  
The gentle pressure of his lips against hers made every muscle in her body ache with pleasure as she sank even deeper into the mattress. It was like her entire being gave up the ghost, deflated into nothingness, so that she could focus every ounce of sensation and feeling on this one kiss. But bodies weren't nothing if not easily distracted, and when calloused fingers started tracing along her thighs she gasped against Colton's lips, breaking that sweet contact as he drew back a little in surprise. “I'm sorry,” she said with a little laugh. “I just-”  
  
“You know,” Colton murmured, running his fingers through her bangs, “every time we're together, I get more and more evidence that tells me just how sensitive you really are.”  
  
“You say that like I'm a science experiment,” she teased.  
  
He smiled. “Who says you're not?”  
  
“If you two are done flirting...” Phil cleared his throat. “...I'd be most obliged if Miss Testone here would lift up her sweet ass so I can get these clothes off of her.”  
  
Elise obliged, giggling again. “I'll never understand how a guy like you can sound so eloquent and then so crude in the exact same sentence.”  
  
“It's a gift.” Phil began coaxing her shorts off, diving down to press a kiss into her thigh with every inch that they descended.  
  
Colton's words burrowed somehow past the quiet ringing in her ears that seemed to grow louder with every teasing touch of Phil's lips. “I've been wondering about something.”  
  
“Do tell,” Phil murmured just before planting another kiss.  
  
“Does everybody talk as much as we do when they're being...intimate?”  
  
Elise's sanity finally began to return the second she saw her pajama shorts go flying across the room. Phil was letting his lips take a break, apparently. “I think it depends on the person.”  
  
“That's for sure.” Phil's grip on Elise's legs tightened a little as he spoke. “Hannah and I never said a damn word.”  
  
She chose her words carefully as she rested her hands companionably on Colton's thighs. “One man I've been with never said anything either. But there was another guy, this real jokester, he talked and laughed all through the sex.”  
  
“God, that must've been annoying.”  
  
“Actually, it was always kind of fun. He kept me giggling. It was playful and fun and...I don't know, it wasn't bad at all.”  
  
Phil finally peeked around Colton's torso, cocking an eyebrow as he did so. He seemed to be considering something. “...so two Jews walk into a bar.”  
  
She didn't hesitate to lift her foot, plant it firmly in the center of his chest, and push him back out of sight with a cheeky grin. “As I was saying...it's all based on the person. And...well, we've always been most at home just sitting around, talking.”  
  
“Shooting the shit, as it were,” Phil added from where he was battling with Elise's foot.  
  
“So it's really not that surprising that we'd be that way as we were easing in.” Elise finally gave up the fight and let Phil wrap an arm around her calf, giving it a surprisingly tender hug and resting his chin on her knee. “Movies feed you a lot of bullshit, you know? All you see is that explosive kiss, them ripping off each other's clothes as they stumble into the bedroom, all speed, no savoring, no intimacy. And that's annoying. I mean, trust me, I've had that: it can be super awesome and sexy. But I think I kind of like this too.”  
  
“It's not bad.”  
  
“Yeah,” Colton finally said. “Definitely a little less scary.” He chuckled. “With our luck, if we tried to do something like that, we'd all end up in the hospital.”  
  
Elise considered that. “Y'know, Phil, maybe that whole sex-up-against-a-wall thing is something we don't need to try.”  
  
“Oh no, you're not getting out of it now, missy.”  
  
Even as she smiled, Elise looked back up at Colton, feeling herself soften a little. She didn't understand it. How could the world be so electrically charged, but she still feel so safe and warm? She ran her hands down his arms, transferring them to his waist. “Well, while we're here instead...am I the only one who's gonna have her clothes off?”  
  
“As my lady commands,” Phil murmured. And then he reached out, grabbed Colton's shirt, and pulled it off in one quick movement. “Ta-da!”  
  
“Dude!” For a moment Colton covered his chest, like he had something to hide. “Way to ask first!”  
  
Phil grinned. “I'll make it up to you. You don't have to ask me either.”  
  
Even as the two of them bantered, Elise's eyes were hovering on the tattoo that covered Colton's shoulder and upper arm. The Joshua tree. It stood out with a certain frightening vibrance in this light. She wondered if he wanted to scrape it and tear it off with his nails, to hide every reference to his past. When she began to sit up, Colton snapped his eyes back to her and instinctively scooted backward, letting her rise, letting her sit tall, and settled around her thighs without an ounce of hesitation or shame. He was curious. He wasn't so much a tower now, not when her eyes were at the level of his collarbone. If anything, he was her equal again.  
  
She traced the pads of her fingers over the Joshua tree, and Colton shivered, his eyes following her touch with a certain degree of pain. “I hope you're not ashamed of this,” Elise murmured.  
  
He dipped his head for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing in a swallow. “It's not who I am anymore. I wish I could-”  
  
“It's a part of your past. And that means it's beautiful.” Elise wrapped her arms around Colton's waist, thrilling herself at the softness of his skin, the smoothness that boys always seemed to have and that girls lotioned themselves up every day to achieve. As she leaned in her breasts pressed against his chest, and she planted a kiss right in the center of the tattoo, her lips lingering. “It's a part of who you were, and it will always play a part in who you become. Don't ever hate it.”  
  
The sadness that was in Colton's eyes as she met them made something inside of her break. Perhaps for the first time, he didn't ask permission. He didn't let her take the lead. He simply held her close and kissed her.  
  
This was the kiss she always knew he could achieve, the kind that shook her to the depths of her marrow, the kind that made her taste paradise. There was a hunger in the way he held her. Every minute movement of his lips told her of his desire to possess her, to taste her, to _adore_ her, and it took her so suddenly by surprise that tears welled up in her eyes. He was broken. A part of him was dying, and another part was trying to be born. And yet this was the only solace he could find? Two people, an animal and a whore, who perhaps weren't careful enough not to rip him in half for them both to own?  
  
She pulled him closer, until the pressure of his chest against hers made her feel like her ribs were going to cave in, and even then she couldn't let him go. She kissed him and she kissed him and she kissed him, devouring his mouth until she thought she might have tasted blood.  
  
Colton broke it, as he always seemed to. But this time, there were tears in his eyes as well.  
  
“Wow,” Phil whispered.  
  
Elise cradled Colton's cheek in the palm of her hand, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “I could just kiss you all night, do you know that?”  
  
“It might be for the best.” He smiled a little, the tears beginning to clear up. “I've already come twice today. There's no way I'm gonna be able to come a third time.”  
  
“Bull-freaking-horse-shit.” Phil crawled to sit beside them, facing them, one knee of his crossed legs touching each of their hips. “There's not a single red-blooded straight man out there who'd stay limp when he has a woman like this in his arms. And, uh, I've got news for you, Colton.” Phil leaned close to his ear as he whispered. “You're gonna last a hell of a lot longer.”  
  
“Less sensitivity means a longer staying time,” Elise added.  
  
“So I might actually do something worthwhile this time?”  
  
“Oh, hush.” Elise flicked him on the arm with a grin. “If you're so self-conscious about your performance, why not prove yourself this time?”  
  
“Oh, I plan to.” Colton waggled his eyebrows in a rare moment of teasing, something she felt like she hadn't seen since they were on the tour together. “But not just through sex.”  
  
“So what's your plan?” She quirked an eyebrow.  
  
He smirked at her. “I already told you.” He touched a gentle hand to her chest and pressed until she began to lay down. “Get comfy. You're gonna be there a while.”  
  
She didn't want to give in that easily, even when her entire body grew hot in a rush of arousal. “Are there any logistics I need to know about this plan?”  
  
“All you need to know is that you've been incredibly patient...” Colton lifted his eyebrows. “And I'm gonna repay that tenfold.”  
  
“That's quite a promise,” Phil murmured. “I think I've gotta get in on this.”  
  
Colton chuckled, looking at the other man. “Yeah, well, I might need you to. You've got a little more experience in this than I do.”  
  
Elise's eyes flicked from Colton to Phil. Experience in what, exactly?  
  
Phil shrugged modestly. “Maybe. What do you want me to do?”  
  
Colton hummed quietly in thought as he touched his hand to Elise's waist and let it ghost down over her hip. “Whatever your instincts tell you.”  
  
Every one of her senses focused on Colton, on his hand, his expression, the soap he'd used in the shower, everything. He looped a finger through the leg of her panties and out through the waist, the tip of his nail tickling her skin, before he began to draw it downward.  
  
No matter how much he tried to hide it, there was something incredibly attractive about just how nervous he was. He licked his lips, his hand shook as he tugged her underwear down, and his eyes widened a little when he saw her pussy for the second time. She lifted her body just enough to facilitate his undressing her, but even that slight movement made him gulp. “You like what you see?” she murmured with a small smirk.  
  
He nodded, but he didn't look up at her eyes. He was fascinated, enthralled, and Elise felt her hands take up fistfuls of the sheets in preparation. Somehow she was starting to get a feeling for what this boy was planning.  
  
As Colton continued to pull her panties away, Phil settled down on his side right beside Elise, his chest flush against her arm. “You still nervous, Elise?” he purred in her ear, reaching down to wrap his fingers around her own.  
  
“Nervous? Me?” Her voice was breathless and nothing had even happened yet. She wasn't sure whether that was pathetic on her part or encouraging for Colton. “Now, why would I be nervous?”  
  
“Well, why else would you look so flushed?” Phil's other hand reached to rest on her hipbone, maddeningly close to the dark curls just below his fingers.  
  
“I had a feeling you dyed your hair,” she heard Colton murmur absently as he carelessly tossed her panties to the side.  
  
Elise might've been tempted to chuckle, to say something smart, but Phil pressed a little tighter against her, and she found herself both incredibly frustrated by the fact that he was still wearing his t-shirt, that she couldn't feel his skin against hers, and yet incredibly turned on by the gentle swish of the fabric over her arm as he shifted. She couldn't get her attention off him even if she tried. “I guess there's always the chance that it ain't nerves.” His lips were brushing against her ear, making her gasp. “Could be something else. Could be that this boy's got you so turned on that you can't think straight, is that it?”  
  
She couldn't speak. She groaned softly as she pressed her thighs together, just enough to push herself into the mattress and feel her body begin to sparkle with something iridescent.  
  
“Huh. Guess there's only one way to find out.” His hand slid over her thigh until his fingers touched their juncture and his lips murmured a husky command. “Open your legs for me, Elise.”  
  
He had her on a string. The second he spoke those words she spread her legs, let his fingers sink between her lips, let them slide over her clit effortlessly and pluck a string deep inside of her that vibrated until she sang out a quiet moan. His fingers. She remembered his fingers _so goddamn well_.  
  
“Fuck, Elise,” he whispered, touching his forehead to her temple, catching his breath with an urgency she hadn't heard in so long. “I forgot how good you felt.”  
  
“Mm...” A cat had her tongue as long as he was pressing against her like that. If that was all it would take to make her mute, what would happen if he actually went inside of her? The mere thought made her lift her hips, trying to manipulate him, and he didn't disappoint her. His index finger slid into her without a second thought, slick as she was, and she threw her head back and gasped. It was a slow rhythm he set, one that made her mewl and grind against him in desperation, but he kept his pace, kept his speed, torturing her slowly.  
  
“God, Colt, you should feel how wet she is,” Phil murmured. “She's so ready for you.”  
  
“Not ready enough.”  
  
“Bullshit.” A word finally broke past Elise's mental blockage, and the thumb that Phil suddenly coaxed over her clit felt like the greatest reward she'd ever received.  
  
“No. No, I think she needs to be wetter.”  
  
There was no fucking way on this earth for her to get any wetter, any more aroused. It was _impossible_. But Phil suddenly chuckled, like he understood, and when he suddenly took his hand away from her, she nearly wept at his absence. “I like the way you think, Dixon,” Phil said.  
  
“Whatever you're planning,” she gasped out, “please, make it happen soon, because I'm gonna just keel over and die here.” She opened her eyes to plead with Colton, but her eyes fell on Phil's hand, on how his finger was glistening in the moonlight, and she watched him with an odd sort of fascination.  
  
Phil sat up and leaned toward Colton, cocking an eyebrow. “Can't just jump in blindly, man.” And then he held out his hand, offering his finger, letting it rest just against Colton's full bottom lip. “Have a taste.”  
  
Jesus, was that what Colton had been planning all along? She sat up a little, supporting herself on her arms, and bit her bottom lip. Everything inside of her felt like it was readjusting and readying itself, preparing itself for Colton's tongue, and maybe that was the reason why when Colton glanced down at Phil's finger and furrowed his eyebrows just before he took it into his mouth she wasn't anywhere near expecting it.  
  
Phil sucked in a sharp breath, and Colton reached up to touch his fingers to Phil's wrist, to hold his hand in place as his eyes slid shut and he slowly sucked in Phil's digit until he was at the very base of it. She'd never seen Phil overcome, not unless he was buried inside of her, but as Colton's head suddenly began to bob up and down Phil's finger, she saw it happening. Phil's eyes squinted shut and his mouth opened in a silent cry, a plea, until every time that Colton reached that base he forced a quick exhaling pant from Phil's lips. Colton's eyes flashed open to see his face, every movement faster and faster until he gave one last almost audible suck and let Phil's hand drop away from his lips.  
  
Phil panted as he opened his eyes, his gaze an inferno. It took him a moment to catch his breath, but when he did, he was beginning to smirk. “You've been practicing.”  
  
“You'll just have to see, won't you?” Colton murmured, his eyes flicking down to the tent in Phil's boxers even as his cheeks turned pink.  
  
Elise was dumbstruck. Seeing something like that, it was supposed to make her feel uncomfortable or like an outsider, but she realized that it made more sense than anything else she'd experienced in her entire life. She didn't mind it. If anything, it turned her on until she felt like her very skin was going to start bubbling from the heat. She weakly settled back down to lay, and both Colton and Phil looked back at her. “That was hot.”  
  
“Oh, so Colt's not the only voyeur here, is he?” Phil said with a chuckle.  
  
“We're _all_ voyeurs, you dumbass,” she teased, lifting an eyebrow. “At least when it comes to each other. Or haven't you figured that part out yet?”  
  
As Phil twirled a bit of his t-shirt around his finger, drying it, he glanced toward Colton. “So? What'd you think?”  
  
Colton pressed his lips together, as if he was analyzing the taste of her. “It's the weirdest thing I've ever tasted-”  
  
“You haven't tried semen,” Elise interrupted as she tried to figure out if she should be offended or not.  
  
“Yet.” Phil, of course.  
  
Colton smiled a little as he met Elise's eyes. “...but I think I could get used to it. If I had a little more exposure.”  
  
“You don't have to-”  
  
“I don't care how many times you say that.” Colton tucked his hands under both of her knees and began to spread her legs further, his eyes jumping from her gaze to her pussy intermittently. “It's not gonna make me change my mind.”  
  
“You heard the man, Elise.” Phil was enjoying this far more than he should be. “Settle in and enjoy.”  
  
There was something in the way that Colton was hovering over her, eyes wide, taking everything in, that was absolutely adorable, but she could almost feel the nervousness pouring off of him. Before she could say anything else he licked his lips and let out a soft, shaky sigh. "Okay. Wow. Here goes." But he still didn't move. He was frozen.  
  
"Colt, Colt, hold on a sec." Phil leaned over and touched a hand to his shoulder, holding him at bay. "You didn't do this before?"  
  
Colton's eyes bounced back and forth from between her legs to Phil's eyes. "I, uh..."  
  
Elise took pity on him. "I was a little seduction-happy with him at the moment, Phil," she murmured with a small smile. Colton met her eyes and began to blush.  
  
"Ah..." Phil's grin nearly split his face. "Now, don't worry, Colt, you weren't the first guy to go dumb under those charms."  
  
"I'll pretend you never said that, Mr. Phillips." She stuck her nose in the air.  
  
His grin turned a little more sly, just enough to make her skin thrum, before he looked back at Colton. "Now, here, let a pro show you who's boss." He leaned down, his shoulders arching, his head ducking a little further out of sight, and Elise's breath was just catching in her throat in preparation when she realized that nothing was happening. In fact, he was pointing at something. "Now this here, Colt, that's a clitoris."  
  
"I know what that is," Colton muttered, his cheeks flaming all the more. "I didn't exactly fail Health."  
  
"They had Health at your fancy little Christian academy?"  
  
Colton cleared his throat. "W-well, you know, it was all-abstinence-all-the-time, but-"  
  
"Huh. Well, anyway, clit."  
  
Elise lifted herself up on her elbows and cocked an eyebrow, but neither of the men were looking back at her. They were staring at her pussy like it was a portal to another friggin' universe or something.  
  
"You can call it the whole control-center thing down here." She watched Phil as he flicked his tongue out and wet his thumb, and she felt her heart skip a beat in anticipation. "Very sensitive. Now, how much and how hard's different for all the girls out there, but this beautiful lady right here, well..." An electric shock singed her when he gently coaxed his thumb over her clit, making her buck her hips just the once. "...she likes to be teased."  
  
It was right then, right at that moment, that she figured out his game. Her eyes widened in shock before narrowing almost instantaneously in suspicion, and when Phil flicked his eyes up to meet hers with a wink she knew. This lecture wasn't for Colton. It was to torture her with making her hold out, wasn't it?  
  
"That, uh...that sounds painful," Colton said helpfully. He was looking back and forth between Phil and Elise as if trying to keep up.  
  
"Not exactly," Phil replied before Elise could say a word. "And the payoff's worth it in the end, ain't it, Elise?"  
  
"You're a bastard and I hate you."  
  
Phil gestured to her, nodding to Colton. "See? She loves it."  
  
Colton didn't look too sure.  
  
“Pop quiz time, Dixon. These beautiful lips here...” He drew his index finger along the inside of the walls of her pussy. “You remember what these are called?”  
  
“The...labia?”  
  
“Bingo.” Phil tilted his head to the side. He wore the teacher role pretty well, actually. In the midst of her arousal she could imagine an incredible teacher-student fantasy coming into play one day. “These babies are basically a waterbed for everything that's happening down here. You do something here...” He twisted his hand and cupped her whole pussy in his palm, giving the most delightful pressure as he drew his hand upward. “...and everything's gonna feel good. Ain't that right, Elise?”  
  
She knew she was going to sound pathetic before she even made the soft whining noise. “Can't you press a little harder?”  
  
“Nope. Sorry. This is my guitar-strumming hand. Gotta rest it, avoid that carpal tunnel, you know?”  
  
“You stupid jerk!” The second she tried to grind against his palm he snatched it away. “I don't think I've ever hated anybody as much as I hate you right now.”  
  
Phil leaned toward Colton and spoke in a stage whisper. “That's code for how much she loves me. Get used to deciphering it when you go this route.”  
  
“Hmph.” Elise childishly crossed her arms over her breasts and stared up at the ceiling. If Phil wasn't going to gratify her, then she wasn't going to give him a single reaction.  
  
“Ohh, look at that, Colt. She's getting stubborn. Ain't that cute? Right on time for the next lesson.” It didn't matter that she wasn't looking at him. She could almost _feel_ him getting right back into position, right back between her thighs. “Now, the tongue's the strongest muscle in the body. It can do some mighty powerful things, and you've gotta be prepared to use it to its fullest potential. But don't underestimate everything else at your disposal: your lips, your fingers, even your teeth, if you're prepared to be gentler than a ladybug.”  
  
“A ladybug on my clit's not exactly the most arousing thing for me to think about, you know,” Elise quipped. “Why stop there? Why not make it a spider or a snake or-”  
  
“A snake, huh?” Phil chuckled. “A perfect example, Miss Testone. Watch and learn, Colt.”  
  
Most men would tease you in an almost predictable fashion. They'd blow a stream of cool air over your hot pussy, torturing you with the temperature extremes. They'd let their nose brush over your pubic hair or kiss the inside of your thigh, so close that you could feel the heat coming off their neck. But Phil wasn't anything if not unpredictable, and so when he suddenly thrust his tongue inside of her she gasped and arched her hips without a thought. She sucked in every bit of the air in the room, until her lungs were about to explode, and then all she could do was press a hand to her mouth to keep any sound from escaping as Phil wriggled his tongue inside her, tasting her like a man starved – no, just like the fucking _reptile_ she'd just mentioned – and then just as quickly he was gone, and her hips were collapsing against the bed in pathetic need.  
  
“Mmm...just as sweet as I remember,” Phil whispered, his eyes shut, cherishing the flavor of her. He tightened his grip on her thighs slowly, as if he was fighting with himself, before he exhaled and came up on his knees. “You ready for Exam Number One, Colt? It's a practical. You gotta show me what you learned.”  
  
“I'll fail it.” There was something almost gratifying about watching Colton bump Phil out of place with his shoulder as he asserted himself. “I can't bear to tease her right now.”  
  
“Bless you, my child,” Elise pressed as she reached down to touch Colton's cheek. “You're my savior tonight.”  
  
“Oh, fine, fine.” Phil settled easily on his side, eyes around the level of Elise's hips. “You do what you want.”  
  
This time, he didn't look nervous. No, he moreso looked...ready. Expectant. Like kids in school did, always ready to throw their middle finger at the man and take over the world. Always ready to take control.  
  
He touched her there for the first time, intimately, curiously, a mere sweep of his index finger from bottom to top, and it shocked her as it always did how quickly her body responded to Colton. Just like with Phil she pressed a little closer, a little more desperately, but Colton jolted his finger back instead of letting her take the lead. Not out of teasing. No, he looked more nervous than anything.  
  
He glanced at his finger before experimentally sucking just the tip of it, just enough to acclimate himself to the taste of her again, and Elise watched, enraptured. He didn't even seem to notice her regard. He furrowed his eyebrows, judging it. And then he looked at her again. His cheeks flushed a little from how closely she was watching him, and she shook her head. “Don't be embarrassed. I can't even tell you how sexy that is when you do that.”  
  
He seemed to like the fact that he'd done something that Elise found sexy. It emboldened him, made him square his shoulders and relax his tension. It tripped the switch. He only took another moment before he lowered himself down, secured himself with hands on her thighs, and flicked out his tongue.  
  
It had been too long since a man had done this for her. She mewled quietly as Colton carefully, almost casually, let his tongue explore, even as his eyes watched her closely to judge her every reaction. He pressed his tongue flat against her and licked his way up in one fell swoop. He nibbled on her labia. He swirled his tongue around her clit, flicked across it, even gently sucked the whole thing between his lips. Every movement he made was fucking exquisite. It didn't matter that he was inexperienced, not when her whole pussy was throbbing, not when even a feather could probably get her off if someone tried long enough.  
  
This kid was driving her to the top of a rollercoaster and it'd only been a few minutes, she realized. Him, Colton Dixon, consummate Christian, lover of all things pure and innocent, he'd abandoned it all and decided to be _her_ lover instead. That was _incredible_. Any other moment the thought that she and Phil had corrupted him, that might've stabbed her, but now it only made her sigh out a breathy moan and lift her fingers to her breasts.  
  
Phil. God, Phil was still here, wasn't he? She opened her eyes and searched for him, and she saw his hand inside his pants before she saw anything else. As if on cue Colton slid a finger inside of her as he lapped at her clit, and Elise caught her breath sharply as Phil met her eyes just as the spark caught inside of her.  
  
Voyeurs, the lot of them. She arched her back a little more, rubbed her nipples a little harder, and Phil's eyes skipped down to her fingers in response. He ate her up with his gaze. Something told her he wasn't going to be able to hold himself back for much longer. He wanted her. He wanted to be inside of her. He wanted to be right where Colton's fingers were right now, easing into her, scissoring to spread her wide, being the one responsible for the gasp that Colton pulled out of her.  
  
He wasn't going to have much time to do anything if he didn't hurry. This Dixon kid was a quick student. Elise closed her eyes and couldn't help but buck against his face just for a moment, just for a second of lost control. And then the air shifted.  
  
It was telling somehow that even when her toes were curling and there was a knot somewhere inside of her that was tightening more and more in the most beautiful way possible, she could still catch the instant that the hitching of Colton's breath began to change. She thought that he was maybe rubbing himself against the mattress, maybe getting off just like Elise and Phil were, but when she opened her eyes and peered down to watch him she realized it was something else.  
  
It was in the tension of his shoulders. They were pulled up to a painful level, almost above his ears. And there was no way in hell that he was doing that because it felt good.  
  
He was faltering, she realized. His tongue was a little less sure. His fingers were rigid and unmoving inside of her. It was like his batteries were running low and he'd gone way too long without a recharge. But the fact that she was feeling so incredible, that sweat was threatening to chill her from how much of it covered her body, meant that the fucking cat had her tongue again, and she didn't have a clue what to do.  
  
She reached down and touched her fingers to his hair, and he flinched, made a sudden sound that sparked an alarm in her heart, but before she could do anything about it Phil was swooping down like a hawk.  
  
Phil wrapped his arms around Colton from behind, just as he had when they were on their feet, but this time he leaned back and brought Colton to stand on his knees for just a moment before he surrendered and leaned his weight into Phil's chest. One of Phil's hands was squeezing Colton's shoulder, turning the skin around it white, and the other palmed his ribs, and as Phil twisted his head around to touch his lips to Colton's ear Elise finally caught the beginnings of tears in Colton's eyes.  
  
“Breathe, Colt,” she heard Phil whisper, and she watched as Colton's eyes fluttered shut. “It's a lot. I know it's a lot to handle. Just breathe.”  
  
Colton shook his head a little. “But I'm not fini-”  
  
“You need a minute, man.” When Phil's eyes flickered to meet her own, she saw a strange combination of soft caring and primal intensity watching her. “...and I think I'm about to explode if you don't let me cut in.”  
  
Colton turned his head to look at him, and Phil moved his head in response. They were just a breath apart, their lips almost touching, and Phil hesitated for only a moment before he traced Colton's shining lips with the tip of his tongue. Colton tensed up all over again and sucked in a gasping breath. As Phil's tongue slid into Colton's mouth to deliver an almost painfully sensual kiss, Colton's hands flew to grab Phil's forearms in a bruising grip. They were sharing the taste of her, passing it back and forth between them in a searingly hot competition that she didn't have a damn clue who would win. She heard their breathing catch, watched them drown in that kiss, until Phil's hips suddenly bucked against the small of Colton's back, and that was all it took for Phil to break their contact with a little groan.  
  
“I'm sorry, man,” he gasped out. “I didn't mean-”  
  
“Since when the hell do you apologize?” Colton whispered back. Any signs of him being overwhelmed were slowly disappearing, and now he was staring at Phil with a desperately hungry gaze. “Don't start doing it now.”  
  
Elise thought the whole room might snap in half from the tension in the air as they stared at each other, challenging the other person to break the eyelock first, and it was Phil who surrendered by looking back at her suddenly. She hadn't been hit by that much heat in an eternity, and she felt her whole body ignite from the anticipation alone. Something told her she was about to be fucked so hard that she wouldn't walk straight for a week.  
  
He didn't look away, not even when he scooted away from Colton and pulled his t-shirt over his head in one fell swoop. “Y'know, Colt, I got a feeling you've already completed the first phase of your mission.”  
  
“Yeah?” Colton asked a little breathlessly. He was openly staring at Phil's torso without a hint of shame, and Elise was pretty sure a bull could break through the wall at that moment and Colton wouldn't even notice. She knew the feeling.  
  
“Yeah.” The shirt flew off somewhere to join the forlorn pile of clothes covering the floor. “To blow Elise's mind. Remember?”  
  
Colton shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Like I could forget.” Like _any_ of them could forget this night.  
  
“You've got her on the ropes, man. She's about to fold.” Phil rested his hands on his hips, just against his boxers, and Elise sat up slowly as she drank the entirety of his form in like a woman starved. She'd seen him in his trunks on the beach. She'd seen him a billion times like that over the entire course of Idol, by the pool. But this was different. The low light of the moonlight was casting the most incredible dramatic shadows across his body, a body that she hadn't touched in so fucking _long_ , and his hardness made no apologies. Maybe she was a little crazy, but she could almost hear it demanding attention.  
  
She'd waited for this moment for a whole damn year, maybe two, she couldn't even remember anymore, and now here it was. And with that realization, something inside of her snapped.  
  
She flew forward and Phil met her, meshing his body against her until neither of them could breathe, until one of them had to capitulate lest they both explode, and Phil was the one to ease back, to let her climb into his lap and kiss him desperately. It was only a second long, just long enough to mark him, to remind him that he was hers just as much as Colton was or vice versa, and then she broke it and let the momentum carry her on.  
  
“Where's the condoms, Elise?” he rasped as she pulled at the waistband of his boxers. “I know you brought some.”  
  
She couldn't get these boxers down fast enough. She weighed how mad he would get if she ripped them right down the middle even as she glared up at him. “Fuck the condoms. I've been on birth control since I was twenty years old, and I know you're clean. And if you don't fucking get inside of me right now-”  
  
“Wait, then why did-”  
  
She snapped her gaze over to Colton. “I couldn't take any chances.” Phil took over her hands, and she gladly relinquished control to him as he came onto his knees to get the damn underwear off. “Nothing's one hundred percent effective, and that's all you needed, wasn't it, to go back home to your sister with a kid on the way. But I could give two shits about being a careful little bubble boy right now when all the numbers say we're gonna be okay.” She pointed at him with a stab of her index finger. “Your time's coming, Colt. Get ready.”  
  
She saw Colton's eyes widening to that scared little deer level again right before Phil grabbed her by the chin and pulled her in for an almost bruising kiss. She moaned desperately into his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him even closer still, and when she felt him hot and hard against her thigh she thought she might go insane if she had to wait any fucking longer.  
  
Her back hit the mattress barely a second after she broke the kiss, and she slithered her legs around Phil's hips like a cobra. There was something maddeningly possessive about the way he looked over her from head to hip, lips swollen and parted with every breath he took, and he hesitated for just a moment before he touched his hands to her thighs and slowly slid them down to her waist, the pads of his fingers pressing into her oversensitized skin. “I have dreamed of you,” he said, “once a week every week ever since I had you. Sometimes twice.” He laughed as he shook his head. “You infected me with something that night. You made me yours before I even knew it was possible.” And finally he met her eyes, and she felt tendrils of flame licking down her spine. “And now...I'm gonna make good on that. I'm gonna have you 'til you break and come all around me, girl.”  
  
She reached out and squeezed his forearms, feeling the muscles tightening with tension under her touch. “We'll just see who breaks first, now won't we?” she whispered back.  
  
He gave her a languid smirk. And then he nearly split her in half.  
  
“Jesus!” Every single muscle inside of her sang in a combination of ecstasy and pain, in a beautiful concerto that seamlessly united them into perfection. He held himself there, pressed into her from tip to base, his every nerve tense and trembling, before he released a loud, shaking breath.  
  
His eyes were closed. They were closed tighter than she'd ever seen them before, and for a brief moment as her toes uncurled she panicked on the inside, wondering if maybe he was thinking of somebody else, like Hannah or maybe even Colton. But then slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes began to open, and she realized that there was a wetness in his gaze that told her everything she needed to know.  
  
He swept his eyes over her face, like he was taking stock of her every facial feature, and she couldn't help but do the same. She memorized everything about this moment: his parted lips, his strong chin, his sharp cheekbones, his long eyelashes, his mussed hair. Anything so that when it all went inevitably wrong she could think back and remember every minute detail of how it felt to be cherished and wanted, wanted so damn _bad_ that the entire world folded under the pressure. And then he began to move.  
  
They fit together so fucking perfectly. She greedily consumed his back with her hands, feeling his angel bones leap beneath her touch, and shuddered audibly. There was nothing more transcendent than this. Being with Colton, beautiful as it had been, it didn't even compare. When every nerve in your body was alive and radiating and trembling until you thought you were about to keel over and die from the sheer sensation of feeling too much, all you could do was sink your nails into your lover's back and pray God let you hold on for just a second longer.  
  
“It's been too long,” she whispered, hearing a shudder in her voice. “I have waited too fucking long for this.”  
  
“I know, babe,” he whispered back with a desperate ardency. He pulled his arms in until they were pressed against her sides like he was trying to stabilize her. “God, I know.”  
  
The entire world had closed around them. It had been obliterated, leaving nothing but this little pocket where they fit so intimately, where nothing mattered but him sliding through her so slowly that every time his pubic bone pressed against hers she felt like she'd been fervently waiting and begging and praying for it for an eternity.  
  
She murmured an unintelligible phrase just before she looped her arms around his neck. “You're too far away.” It was all she could manage, even if she thought it didn't make a lick of sense. “I need you closer.”  
  
“Come here,” he groaned huskily, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling until they were both sitting and she was flush against his chest, until it was more grinding than fucking, until every slight movement of her hips pressed her clit into his pubic hair and elicited a friction she'd never known with him.  
  
Elise threw her head back with a sudden gasp. She felt her curls bouncing against her back, felt his hands digging into her hips, felt the sharp little breaths he exhaled at the curve of her neck and collarbone, and the sudden frustration she experienced took her so by surprise that she almost laughed. “It's not fair,” she moaned, twisting her hands through his hair. She brought her head forward until they were forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose. “It's not fucking fair, I tell you.”  
  
“What's that, sweetheart?” Phil cooed, tilting his head just so to give her a quick peck on the lips.  
  
She twirled her hips, just enough to make him catch his breath as he moved inside of her. “Do you realize...that both times we've slept together...I've had to keep my mouth shut?”  
  
Phil's eyes shot to her lips, and he flicked his tongue out to moisten his own. “A damn shame. It's not just your pussy that tastes like honey.”  
  
Her hand slid down to cup his neck, to revel in the sweat she felt beading there beneath her fingertips, even as she did it to draw his attention back to her hooded eyes. “That's not what I mean, you idiot,” she whispered affectionately. “Every time's been when we absolutely can't be found out.” When his eyebrows lifted to his hairline, she knew he understood. “You've never even been able...to hear me scream.”  
  
His hips bucked in a certain frenzy at her words. That little loss of control gratified her, make her smirk like the cat that ate the canary, because every time that Phil dropped his guard he was handing her a little more vulnerability. Remarkable how even when he was busy driving them both into madness he still had a mask on that not even she could see beneath. She wondered what it would take to shatter it for once and for all.  
  
He chuckled suddenly as he got control over the movements again, taking the power back easily. “It's not gonna work, sweetheart. I remember what you said, about seeing who'll break first?” Phil's hand slid between them with ease and coaxed across her clit like he'd been doing it all his life, and she nearly destroyed her bottom lip with how hard she had to bite it just to suffocate any cries before they emerged. “No, I've got you right in my sights, and you're gonna give in just like I know you're dying to do.”  
  
“That's what you think,” she managed. Her eyes opened wide as an idea came to her, and they darted around until they caught sight of Colton. He was almost rigid with indecision. Something told her he didn't even have a clue that he was steadily rubbing at the bulge in his pants. She lifted one of her hands behind Phil's back and stroked her index finger through the air, beckoning him, forcing every bit of her energy and quickly-disappearing focus to send a telepathic message.  
  
Phil dipped his head and kissed his way down her neck and over her collarbone. He leaned back just enough to let her do the majority of the work, as if he knew exactly how much stimulation it would drag through her entire pussy, and as she took up the addictive, senseless grinding he brought his arm from tethering her at the waist to plucking at one of her nipples. He was playing her like a damn guitar with those rough fingers of his, focusing every part of himself on destroying the intelligent parts of her mind and ravaging the more primal parts of her with sensation.  
  
The bastard, he had a chance at winning this stupid fucking game, didn't he? She couldn't think. Her body wouldn't let her. All she understood was how she had to give up before the sheer force of this storm ripped her apart.  
  
And then suddenly he froze. And she knew Colton had gotten the message.  
  
Colton was there out of nowhere, like he'd teleported, his hands stroking down Phil's sides and his mouth showering his neck in kisses. Phil didn't seem to know what to do with the new sensation. He tilted his head to the side, as if craving more of it, and Elise wanted to crow. Yes, you stupid bastard, that's how it feels to be overwhelmed. Drown in it. But though Colton had given her an edge, she needed more.  
  
She thought of Phil's secret weapon every time he'd soaked her panties in the past, intentional or otherwise. It was time to take a page out of his book.  
  
“I can feel you throbbing inside me, Phil,” Elise groaned in the huskiest voice she could manage. She rolled her hips like thunder, giving a flourish like lightning with every flick. “It's incredible. I can't even think straight, having you, _fucking_ you, after _so fucking long_.”  
  
A drop of sweat dripped down Phil's temple, and he gritted his teeth, his hips moving a little more erratically. Oh, he heard her, whether he liked it or not.  
  
“You can't hold out much longer. I know you too well to think otherwise. You wanna come, don't you? So why don't you just let it go? Why don't you just...break?” She locked eyes with Colton over Phil's shoulder and gave an almost undetectable nod, and she could swear that she heard his thoughts just before he leaned in and touched his lips to Phil's ear.  
  
“I wanna fuck your brains out, Phil.”  
  
Phil let loose a sharp rush of air, eyes flying wide open.  
  
“You wanted to make my toes curl? Well, I wanna make you scream.”  
  
His fingers tightened around Elise's hips desperately. Even Elise, staring at Colton in shock as she was, felt her whole pussy beginning to throb at his words.  
  
“White vision and fireworks, that's got nothing on how I'm gonna make you feel.” Colton's arms slid between her and Phil, wrapping tightly around his torso, and she knew from the hissed groan from between his lips that he was pressing every inch of himself, erection and all, flush against Phil. “I'll make your heart stop. I'll take you to heaven and drag you back down with my hand alone. Don't get me started on what else I've got in store for you.”  
  
“Fuck...” Phil pulled Elise against him sharper than he ever had before, increasing their speed, their force, in a last ditch attempt to win. Or maybe his body knew it was folding. Maybe it had taken control of him.  
  
“You feel it, Phil? You feel what I wanna do to you?” And then Colton chuckled softly, a low laugh dragged straight from the depths of him. “Then come on. _Come for me_.”  
  
“Fuck!” Phil suddenly shouted, and before he could scream again Elise covered his lips with her own. He painted every inch of her on the inside with sharp, erratic thrusts and bucking hips, each movement joined with a pained groan released straight into her mouth. He rode the sensation with a passionate grace, and Elise only just managed to keep her own release at bay, to stay above the tide before it could sweep her under.  
  
It took long seconds before he began to release her hips from his bruising grip. When he slumped against her, Colton used his strength to keep him from crushing all of the air out of her lungs, and they held together in a panting, sweating heap as time seemed to stop.  
  
And then, Phil began to laugh.  
  
It was a quiet, breathy sound, barely audible over the whirr of the air conditioner, but it made Elise glance down at him with a self-satisfied smirk. He shook his head for a moment before breathing out three chuckled words: “You little bitch.”  
  
“Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it,” she shot back. When he rested his head in the dip of her collarbone, her hand automatically lifted to thread through his hair. She never wanted to stop touching him. “You're gonna be one of those sore loser types now, aren't you?”  
  
He grinned against her neck. “You know me too well.” Colton eased back, and Phil almost fell on his side as he slid out of her and tried to balance on his hip. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his eyes strayed right to Colton and stayed there. “...damn, boy. Where'd you learn to talk like that?”  
  
Colton looked both so embarrassed and so turned on that Elise was tempted to laugh again, but all he did was clear his throat and squeeze his hands in and out of fists in a way that was very familiar to her at the present time. “From the best.”  
  
Phil gave him a little smirk just before he collapsed on his back with a heavy sigh. Every few moments he shifted, shivered. “God, everything just... _tingles_.”  
  
“Oh, are you the virgin now?” Elise teased. She was craving that satisfied tingle too, but she'd never admit it to him out loud. The way her whole body was buzzing was enough to drive a woman mad. And yet there was a sense that they needed the pause. They couldn't just keep pushing mindlessly, or they'd end up overwhelmed like Colton almost had. They had to feel out every moment together until it made sense.  
  
Phil shot her a gaze, languid as a cat, that encompassed both her and Colton. “I haven't felt like that...since the first year I was with Hannah.” His eyes grew unfocused. Something told her he was looking beyond them both. “...a lot's changed.” None of them spoke again until he focused on Colton exclusively. “Did you mean what you said?” The smirk grew. “You wanting to...what was it, fuck my brains out?”  
  
Colton exhaled sharply, and Elise was reminded of just how painfully horny the guy must be, especially if he felt in any way like she did. She was shocked he hadn't blown his stack from sheer visual sensation alone. “...why? Are you offering?”  
  
“I just wanna know.” He was back to being indistinguishable again. Even as Elise looked over his face, she couldn't figure out what Phil wasn't saying.  
  
Colton looked toward the wall and crossed his legs Indian-style. It was almost amusing that he was the only one still wearing clothes, and far too many of them at that with his boxers and pajama pants. He pressed his fists into the mattress. “...look, it just sounded like something you might wanna hear.” He'd never been so red. “To be honest, the whole idea sort of something like...like anal sex scares the hell out of me. It seems like there's so much that could go wrong. Almost a little...”  
  
“...squicky?”  
  
Colton looked at Phil in surprise, but nodded.  
  
Phil collapsed on his back again in relief. “Oh, thank God you said that.” He chuckled again even as he covered his eyes with one hand. “I, uh...I think it's kind of squicky too.”  
  
Elise pouted. “Pity, that.” When both the boys looked at her with wide eyes she laughed. “Oh, come on, are you really that surprised that I think it'd be kind of sexy? Nothing about the idea of a girl fucking me with a strap-on is sexy to you?”  
  
Their eyes glazed over a little. Phil was the one to speak. “...are you saying that's a possibili-”  
  
She smacked him with a pillow, and Phil nearly tackled it with a grin. “You lecherous-!”  
  
“Colt, quick, hold her down, maybe she's hiding a vibrator somewhere for just such an occasion!”  
  
Elise smiled despite herself. “Oh, right, where the hell would I be hiding a vibrator?”  
  
“I don't know,” Phil said as seriously as he could manage. “But I don't think we should be taking any chances. I think you need a very thorough search, and that Colton's the man to give it.”  
  
She finally snatched the pillow away from him and held it against her body with a smirk. “Look, Phillips, if you wanna see Colton fuck me, I'm pretty sure all you've gotta do is ask.”  
  
“What? Him fuck you?” Phil looked over at Colton with a slow smirk. “On the contrary...I was thinking you'd fuck him.”  
  
She looked at Colton too. She wondered if he'd ever stop looking a little scared when they stared at him like this, contemplating his every sides of weakness. She wondered if he'd always be a passive lover. Then again, there was really only one way to change that.  
  
Phil was the one to move first, and Colton almost seemed to anticipate it. The second that Phil began to move toward him Colton backed away on his hands and feet, scooting for dear life. Phil didn't even hesitate. He kept his speed until Colton ran into the backboard and had no choice but to slide down it and lay flat on the mattress, even as Phil crawled forward until he was supporting every bit of his weight while looming directly over Colton's body.  
  
Phil dipped his head. As Colton's eyes slid shut with a little strangled hum, Phil's mouth spread into a wider smirk, and he hovered just an inch above his lips, just close enough to torture the poor kid. “She's buzzing, Colt,” he purred, and Elise snapped her eyes to Phil's face. Even though he didn't look back, she knew he was entirely conscious of her, maybe even studying her from his peripheral vision. “You don't think I know what that looks like? She's about to lose it. Minutes away. And we made her that way, you and me both.” Colton began to squint his eyes tighter shut as he quietly groaned. “If you'd gone down on her for just a minute or two more, she would've broken. She would've come all over your face, and you would've had to lick it aaaaall up, wouldn't you?”  
  
Only then did Phil glance toward her, and she felt the pull on her muscles in an instant. They were frighteningly in sync now. It took only a look to tell her he wanted her close, ready to seduce the hell out of this kid that they both loved to death. She approached, flicking her eyes down to watch Colton's face, on hand whenever her cue came.  
  
“And I sure as _hell_ know you're ready. I felt you against me. Hard as a rock. Ready to do some damage.” She became aware of how Phil was letting his hand skim down Colton's chest in one smooth, fluid motion, and she could almost feel the roughness of his callouses tickling her again. She caught her breath as he continued to speak. “You're patient. Self-sacrificing. Think you never deserve anything good. Happy to sit on the sidelines while we get all the ecstasy. Well, kid, you're wrong.” His fingers disappeared beneath the waistband of Colton's pajamas. “You're _dead_ wrong. I'm gonna be damned if I don't get to watch you come inside her like I did, like you got to see. I think you owe me that.”  
  
She knew the instant that Phil's hand found his target because Colton lurched with a gasp, his back arching straight to the damn _ceiling_ , and Elise felt a shock bordering on pain when he caught his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his moan.  
  
“Look at me, Colt,” Phil breathed, and Colton's eyes shot open and locked with his in an instant. That was when the wicked game began. Phil set the pace, the speed, the pressure, and dragged Colton along for the ride with every minute squeeze and featherlight touch of his hand. Never once did the eye contact break, not even when the heat of the room skyrocketed, when the air grew thick enough to chew, when Elise had to sit on her hands to avoid rubbing herself to climax from just how fucking turned on she was from watching them. Colton arched a little further, trying to capture Phil's lips, to do _something_ , but Phil leaned away with a quiet chuckle and Colton collapsed with a pathetic cry. Only then did his eyes squeeze shut as he clawed at his own stomach with the almost nonexistent fingernails of a pianist.  
  
Phil snapped his eyes over to catch Elise's. _Now_ , they seemed to say. One quick arch of his hand drew Colton out of his pants, and as he turned his wrist she moved seamlessly to rise up, position herself, and sink down just an inch onto his cock.  
  
Colton's eyes flew open and he instinctively begin to sit up, but Phil shoved him back down with one broad hand on his chest, holding him firm. “Not so fast, Dixon,” he murmured.  
  
This was a fawn she was dealing with. She moved slowly, carefully, taking him in just a tiny bit before rising back up, coating him in herself. Phil's hand stayed wrapped around him, slowly pumping just near the base, until Elise lowered herself enough to press the heat of herself against his cool fist. She paused, and they stared at each other, both panting slowly, and she could swear that for a moment he was fucking her again with his eyes alone. And then long, tentative fingers began to climb her thighs, and she broke the eye contact in favor of Colton. Phil's hand disappeared.  
  
“How's it feel, sweetheart?” she cooed.  
  
Colton looked like he was either on the brink of a mental breakdown or standing at the gates of Heaven. He took quick, gasping breaths. “I'm...trying really hard...not to scream.”  
  
She grinned. “That bad?”  
  
His fingers squeezed around her thighs. “You said the condom wouldn't hide much!” he hissed accusingly.  
  
“It doesn't!” she hissed back.  
  
“Bullshit.” Phil appeared behind her, flush against her back, and she gave an appreciative murmur. He twisted his neck until he was breathing right into her ear, until he could murmur five little words: “...fuck his brains out, babe.”  
  
In one sharp gasp she sank down fully onto Colton again, spearing herself with him, trying to split herself in half with his cock alone, and Colton gritted his teeth as he tilted his head back. All that creamy, white skin of his neck was just waiting for her lips, but she couldn't bring herself to lean down. She couldn't make herself break the contact between her and Phil, because _this_ was how it was supposed to be, the three of them, not two making love and one watching from the corner, but all of them _together_. Feeling Colton twitch inside of her. Colton's hands easing up to squeeze her hips. Phil's heart pounding against her shoulder blade. One of Phil's hands covering Colton's over her hipbone.  
  
They were joined, connected, stitched together until she thought that if a single one of them moved right now, they'd take the other two's skin with them. And there was no going back.  
  
It took her a long few moments before she realized that every movement she made, every roll of her hips, Phil was making with her. She could feel the cradle of his hipbones pressing against her rear end, pushing his own energy into her own motions, like they were two spoons in a drawer taped together so that neither could get away. The understanding hit her so hard that she threw her head back against Phil's shoulder. “Shit, you're fucking him too, aren't you?” she breathed.  
  
“Uh-huh,” he growled back.  
  
“Holy _shit_.”  
  
He turned his head so his lips brushed against her neck. “You like that?”  
  
“I don't think I've ever liked anything more in my _life_.”  
  
“Nice. Why don't I see if I can make you like it even more?”  
  
One of her hips grew cold when Phil and Colton's hands vanished, but only a moment later she felt a firework explode somewhere inside of her when Phil pressed one of Colton's fingers against her clit. “Fucking-!”  
  
“All right, Colt,” Phil said. “Exam Number Two. Practical under pressure. How does Elise like to be touched?”  
  
Colton gave a little choked cry for a moment before licking his lips. “She...she likes to be teased.”  
  
“Good answer.” Phil gave a particularly sharp press of his hips against Elise's, and she let him lead her into an almost desperate grind that had Colton whimpering in a sudden reward of pleasure. “Now, here's an extra credit question that we didn't go over in class...when you're fucking Elise...how do you stimulate her clit?”  
  
There was only a breath of hesitation, and then Colton swept his finger in a circle before rubbing a straight line down her clit. “Ff-!” She bit her bottom lip so hard that she tasted the raw copper flavor of almost drawing blood. She couldn't scream. She _couldn't_. She had to settle for an agonized squeak.  
  
“I think you get full marks, Colt.” And the pressure of Phil's finger disappeared, though Colton's remained. “Improvise. You get lost, spell something.”  
  
She didn't understand how Colt could keep up a momentum like that when she herself was almost catatonic from sheer _feeling_ , but goddamn, he _did_ , and it was almost more than she could take. It didn't help that Phil's hand reappeared with a rub across her breast. His fingertips were wet and it took only a second for the moisture on her nipple to chill, to make it more erect than she thought it had ever been. He didn't hesitate to set that same agonizing rhythm he'd started with the second he'd touched her there for the first time that night, until every little movement she made was paired with a spark in her belly, in her pussy, in her entire _body_.  
  
That first firework she'd felt only minutes before, that wasn't the only one she had inside her, she knew it. There were more than she'd ever imagined. And every spark these men were lighting was one step closer to the entire load getting blown sky high.  
  
“That's it, Elise,” Phil purred into her ear. “Feel it. Drown in it. Let it light you on fire. 'Cuz I guarantee when you come in a few seconds – believe me, babe, you can't hold out much longer, I know you too well for you to lie to me like that – you're gonna make that Dixon boy come too. And you want that, don't you? You wanna see him break because of us?”  
  
“Yes,” she breathed.  
  
“A little harder, Colt,” Phil said just a hair louder. “Press a little harder. That's it.”  
  
The kindling began to burn. She drew sharp lines down Colton's chest.  
  
“Come...” He rolled her nipples. “...for...” He pressed one last time into her clit. “...us...”  
  
“Shit!” she squeaked. And the world exploded.  
  
She cried out, she _must_ have, because when those fireworks burst and blinded her, they seared her entire body raw, so that everything – fingers, the air conditioning, _everything_ – overwhelmed her and caressed her and tickled her and burned her. She was overcome. She ground her hips, trying to tease out every last ounce of pleasure, and only moments later did she feel something let go inside of her and remember that she wasn't alone, that Colton was here, that Colton was coming inside her, that Phil had one hand covering her mouth and the other covering Colton's to muffle his sharp cries.  
  
She held out for what felt like an eternity, but she inevitably began to collapse first, and Phil used the hand devoted to her to angle her so she fell on her side right by Colton, where she could drown in the last twitches of her pussy. It was the perfect place to see the teartracks that suddenly started coursing down the kid's cheeks. When Phil lifted his hand from Colton's mouth in alarm, Colton whispered a shuddering “Not again.”  
  
Elise instinctively curved her body against Colton's side, and Phil followed her lead, taking his other side. When Colton turned to bury his face in Elise's collarbone, Phil only scooted closer, spooning up against him, and Elise let one arm rest against their sides while the other cupped Colton's head and held him closer. “Shh...”  
  
“I'm trying to stop, I promise.”  
  
“Don't you dare,” she whispered back. She pressed a fervent kiss to his forehead. “Don't. You. Dare. You remember upstairs. You have to break.”  
  
“I'm not supposed to.”  
  
“Bullshit!” she said sharply. “You cry all you want! I'm not going anywhere! And guess what? Neither is Phil.”  
  
This time when Colton surrendered to the tears, she looked over his head to see Phil. Phil was rubbing Colton's back in smooth, even strokes, and when he met her eyes there was a shock behind them. She shook her head gently, a quiet reminder for him not to ask or talk, and buried her fingers a little deeper in Colton's sweaty hair.  
  
“If you won't let yourself let go anywhere else, Colton, then by _God_ , let go here.” Elise felt her own tears grow in her eyes when Colton clutched at her blindly. “Let go here. Let it out. Just let it...” And then she found herself with matching teartracks of her own.  
  
Phil's other hand lifted to smooth her hair, and she touched his wrist with a little quivering sigh of her own. “It's all right,” he murmured.  
  
“That was...just incredible,” she whispered. “I'm serious. I'm almost thirty years old, and I've never experienced anything...so fucking _beautiful_ as that.”  
  
“That's what scares me,” Colton said against her chest. “I never knew it could be like that. Life is just going to pale in comparison.”  
  
Phil shook his head. “No it won't.”  
  
“How do you know?” Colton asked, turning his head.  
  
Phil opened his mouth, then shut it again. He seemed to be fighting with his thoughts before he finally let himself speak again. “I just do.”  
  
Everyone fell silent. Their tears dried. Elise tried not to dig too deeply into what Phil had said. Colton ended up being the one to talk next, his voice soft. “Nobody can wake up and find either of you gone.”  
  
“I can't leave you,” Elise said so quickly that she almost interrupted him. “Either of you. Not right now.”  
  
“We'll set an alarm,” Phil murmured. “Four o'clock. Colton doesn't even get out of bed until five, and nobody ever beats him. Anybody asks why we were gone when they went to take a piss, we were getting a midnight snack.”  
  
Colton set the alarm on his phone on the nightstand, his brows furrowed and his eyes tired. Elise knew the feeling. Her body was ravished, exhausted, until she thought it would just fall apart any second now. He stayed away just long enough to do that before he crawled back between them and settled in with a sigh.  
  
Elise sprawled across Colton, resting a leg on him and throwing an arm over his chest, and Phil let Colton cuddle into the crook of his neck when he rolled onto his side. Phil locked eyes with Elise and she could hear the unspoken telegraph between them again. They were protecting him. That was their job now, from here on out, until something changed. He was the weak one, the impressionable one, the innocent one, and if they let him go out of their sights for long, something was sure to go wrong. She nestled against Colton and dropped her eyes to stare at the column of his neck with a soft sigh before she saw her vision starting to swim again.  
  
Phil was the one to pull the sheet up to cover them all, she was pretty sure, though she dropped off to sleep so fast she had only a moment to register the cool cotton as it fell over all of their bodies.


	24. Chapter 24

“So where were you last night?”  
  
 _Steel-faced. Don't show anything_. Phil glanced up at Heejun through the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. Heejun's eyes were lowered, focused on the shoe he was tying, and Phil counted his blessings for that one little bit of privacy for him to gather his thoughts. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Woke up about, I'unno, two o' clock, and you were nowhere to be found. It was sad.” Heejun's face was completely blank as he met Phil's eyes through his glasses. “I had a bad dream and wanted you to kiss my forehead and make it better.”  
  
Phil chuckled. He focused all his attention on buttoning the next two buttons. “Yeah, well, sometimes you just get this craving for a midnight snack, y'know? Gotta make you some bologna before you lose your mind.”  
  
“A likely story.”  
  
Phil's fingers fumbled. He decided he could leave the last couple of buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, now you're gonna be sore that I didn't bring you any?”  
  
Heejun leaned forward on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were with Elise, weren't you?”  
  
“I made a sandwich. I ate the sandwich. I watched the stars a little. Is any of that really all that surprising?”  
  
“No, what's surprising is that you're not grabbing Elise when you have the chance!” Heejun was the one to chuckle this time, and Phil felt his shoulders relax a little. “Girl couldn't keep her eyes off you at breakfast. You put on a new cologne just before you came out or something?”  
  
 _Jesus Christ, Elise._ But Phil forced a smirk as he turned to face Heejun. “Hey, what happened to that whole prove-to-Hannah-that-you-changed thing last night?”  
  
“All right, you know I'm the biggest fan and shipper that you've got, but I kinda think that there's only one reason a guy wouldn't kill just to get back with Hannah Blackwell, and that's because he thinks he might have something better.” He tilted his head to the side, glasses falling askew. “Am I wrong?”  
  
Something chilled icy cold inside of him. He really wasn't sure how he held the smirk as he began making his way to the bedroom door. “That's enough for now, Mr. Han.” A subject change was desperately needed before he went out and walloped Elise upside the head with a mallet or something. “What's on the schedule for today anyway?”  
  
“Pssh, heck if I know.” Heejun exited the bedroom behind him, and they wandered down the hall toward the living room, following the sound of chords and chatter. “Think the girls wanna go check out a club or something tonight.”  
  
Phil glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed eyebrow. “They even twenty-one yet?”  
  
Heejun shrugged. “Skylar's got a fake ID. Pretty sure Hollie could charm any guy into buying her a drink.”  
  
Phil snorted. “You got a point there.”  
  
“Word's out that she's got a little thing for our fauxhawked comrade anyway. Maybe she's planning on trying to get him drunk so she can have her wicked way with him.”  
  
 _Hands off, sweetheart_. Phil chuckled. “I'd like to see her try. That man's got a chastity belt six inches deep.”  
  
“Poor kid.”  
  
“I'm sure it'll pay off.” Phil studied the wall farthest from Heejun.  
  
As they came into the living room, Phil swept his eyes over everybody, trying to subtly spot two people in particular. It was crazy, really, just how at home everybody was with just sitting around playing instruments and shooting the shit. It was honestly like they were back on tour again, just without the grueling six-hour rehearsals and sound checks. He spotted Elise first, tucked between Erika and Skylar as she was, and felt tempted to throw a cushion at her when she stared at him unabashedly with her crooked smile. Hollie's bright head of hair caught his eye next, and it took him a moment to realize that she was squeezed in a lounge chair with Colton, facing his keyboard.  
  
He didn't have time to get angry or jealous, because Colton was the one playing the chords he'd heard down the hall.  
  
“'Sup, ladies! And, uh, fauxhawk kid.” Heejun muscled into the room and flopped on the three ladies' laps like the beached whale he was, but their squeals and tomfoolery completely escaped Phil. He was staring at Colton with furrowed eyebrows, frowning in concentration, trying to remember if he'd seen him play anything the whole damn time he was in this house.  
  
His feet carried him straight to the keyboard, and he placed his hand on the back of the chair just against Colton's hair as he studied the kid's fingers, the way they faltered just for a breath before pressing into the keys all over again. Smooth. Elegant. The kid had incredible hands, he really did. It didn't make a lick of sense that Phil still hadn't felt them sliding down his pants.  
  
“What're you playing?” Phil asked quietly, tilting his head to the side.  
  
Colton shrugged. The movement bumped his shoulder against Hollie's, and Phil curled his hand into a loose fist. “Heck if I know, man.” And then he smiled. “Just thought it's been a while since I played anything at _all_ , you know? Might as well try something new while I'm at it.”  
  
“It's nice.” Civil. He had to be civil. He glanced up at Hollie. “You helping him, Holls?”  
  
“Oh, no, I'd be rubbish at that,” she said with a soft laugh. “You know about how good my songwriting skills are.”  
  
Colton leaned toward her cheerfully. “You don't get better unless you practice, you know that, right?”  
  
She blushed and looked down at the keyboard with a wide grin.  
  
Two adorable peas in a fucking cozy little pod.  
  
“...I don't even know what I'm gonna wear tonight,” Elise was saying across the room, and Phil glanced toward her and tried really hard not to sulk at her about what was going on right in front of his eyes. It took a moment, but Elise flicked her eyes toward him just the once before sighing forlornly and looking at her hands. “I didn't bring stuff to go out in.”  
  
“Dude!” Skylar dived on the topic. “I brought like eight thousand suitcases, you saw them all. And I'm bound to have _something_ that'd fit you!”  
  
Elise smiled up at her. “You sure?”  
  
“Sure!” Skylar hopped to her feet with all the effervescence of teenagedom. “C'mon, we'll go check it out. Erika, Hollie, you guys have to come. It'll be fun!”  
  
Hollie looked like Skylar had just run over her puppy with a bicycle. “But-!”  
  
“Come _on_ , silly!” Skylar leaned over to grab Hollie's hand and pull her to her feet, and then the four girls were being carried down the hallway in a tide of estrogen. Hollie looked over her shoulder pathetically just before they disappeared around the corner.  
  
Heejun stared down the hallway. “...I'm torn between getting in on this and getting as far away as possible.”  
  
Colton laughed. “You want a makeover too, man?”  
  
“Like I need one!” Heejun tossed his hair as best as he could, which was pretty difficult given how short it was. “I'm already fabulous!”  
  
Phil sounded a wolf whistle, and Heejun took the bait, coming to his feet and licking his index finger before touching it to his hip with a hiss. “Damn, boy!”  
  
“Well, there's your answer!” Colton said. “If you're already fabulous, then I guess that means you go running, huh?”  
  
And Phil pointed to the kitchen door without missing a beat. “Straight in there to get lunch started.”  
  
“...why is it always me?”  
  
“'Cuz you got a perfect sandwich meat-to-bread ratio going on, man.” Phil smiled at him with a cocked eyebrow. “You want some help?”  
  
“No, nono, I see how it is.” Heejun sniffed in a very self-important manner as he strutted into the kitchen. “If you taste tears in your sandwich, don't think a thing about it.”  
  
The second Heejun disappeared out of sight Phil let his eyes drop back onto Colton. He was still playing, though a little more tentatively now, like every chord took incredible foresight. Phil hesitated for just a moment before he rested his hands on Colton's shoulders and began to knead the knotted muscles he felt within.  
  
Colton sucked in a deep breath, his eyes falling shut for a second, and played a couple of dissonant chords before he managed to get back on track. “Jesus...”  
  
“You had a long night last night,” Phil murmured. “Thought the stress might've gotten to you.”  
  
“Stress? What stress?”  
  
“You're the one that cried,” Phil said dryly.  
  
“Pssh.”  
  
They fell silent for a few moments, just listening to the music, just feeling the energy flowing between their bodies, before Phil opened his mouth. “It's nice hearing you play again.”  
  
Colton dipped his head, exposing the soft skin on the back of his neck. It took everything Phil had inside of him not to lean forward and kiss it. “I...felt like I could, suddenly. Just woke up today and...had music in my head again.”  
  
Phil smiled so widely that he felt the creases around his eyes crinkle. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Got any words with that music?”  
  
Colton cleared his throat. He stopped playing long enough to reach into his jeans pocket – these were a little baggier and looser than those damn skinny jeans he was always wearing, Phil noted happily – and to pull out a folded piece of notebook paper. “Had something in my head when I got up today. I scribbled a little down.”  
  
Phil leaned in closer, draping his arms over the back of Colton's chair, but Colton's handwriting was relatively atrocious, like he'd been scrawling it in the dark. He tilted his head to the side as he tried to decipher it. “Any melody to it yet?”  
  
Colton hesitated. Then he pressed two fingers into the keyboard, calling up what Phil's head immediately registered as a minor third. “Lights off...” Colton softly sang those two notes with one word attached to each. And then he played a suspension that tugged a little shiver down Phil's spine, and sang those notes as well. “A shot in the dark...”  
  
The next line was legible enough, and Phil immediately sang the same melody with those words attached. “We get lost...when we're playing with hearts...”  
  
Colton's fingers surged into simple chords, ones to secure the almost plain melody that he took back over. “We're playing games like they have no end...” Phil turned his head so quickly that Colton dipped his own in a sense of embarrassment. “...It's a...” And then he blinked, his long eyelashes dusting against his cheek. He let the chords go and simply spoke. “...is it just a game?”  
  
Phil stared at him long and hard, trying to get him to look back, trying to feed his thoughts into the kid, but when Colton kept his eyes down Phil remembered just how public of a house this was. He gently tapped the piece of paper with the tip of his finger. “I think the melody's got a lot of promise,” he murmured. “But you might wanna do a little more research on that lyrical content.”  
  
Colton looked. Their eyes met, and Phil felt his breath catch the second he was staring straight into them. Everything rocketed back to him from the night before in an instant, how it felt, how it burned, how it shone with a terrifying brilliance in the moonlight. He flicked his eyes down to Colton's lips and watched them part under his gaze. A tidal wave surged behind him, trying to drive him forward, trying to get him to slip his tongue between those lips and to remember exactly how he tasted, but he held firm. He inhaled just enough to steady himself before he stood tall. “I'm gonna make sure Heejun isn't gonna get ambitious and try to make ramen or something. He'll burn the house down.”  
  
Colton nodded. “Okay.”  
  
It was a crime that he couldn't do more, but Phil let his hand drop onto Colton's shoulder and gave it a companionable, friendly squeeze. “Don't stop playing, okay?”  
  
He smiled. “I don't think I can.”  
  
“And rewrite those lyrics. That's an order.”  
  
“Yes sir, Mr. American Idol.”  
  
Phil smirked, tousling the kid's hair for just a moment before fleeing on the wave of Colton's verbal disapproval.  
  
~~  
  
Don't stop playing, he'd said. Don't stop playing. Colton gave himself one moment to watch Phil disappear into the kitchen, just one, before he leaned over the keyboard and began to play again.  
  
He hadn't planned on showing Phil those lyrics. In fact, those were the _last_ things he wanted him to see. But after last night, after he'd been so deeply intimate with him and Elise that he'd basically ripped open his ribs to show them his soul, he didn't seem to have a choice. His hand had moved of its own accord, and by the time the paper was on the keyboard there hadn't been any way to go back.  
  
He was still coming to terms with the fact that Phil had that sort of control over him, that power. That man was a drunkard for power, whether he liked it or not, and though it hadn't come back to bite Colton yet, there were moments where he wondered if it was only a matter of time.  
  
Soft whispering was coming from the hall, he realized, so soft that he barely even acknowledged it in favor of his playing. But when he finally glanced up he saw Skylar and Hollie talking right at the mouth of the hallway. Hollie in particular kept looking in his direction.  
  
A sense of foreboding kicked in. It was only twenty-something years of good Southern manners that made him offer her a smile, and it was apparently all the invitation she needed to approach – that, and the hand that Skylar gently pushed her into the living room with. Moments later she was perched on the arm of Colton's chair with a smile of her own. “Still working?” she asked.  
  
He shrugged. “To be honest, once I get started it's pretty hard to stop. It's always been that way for me.”  
  
“Oh, I _totally_ understand,” she pressed. And then silence.  
  
She was nervous, he realized. Hollie hadn't been nervous around him since the first time they'd met. Suddenly he knew what the next words out of her mouth were going to be before she even said them, and he felt himself tensing in preparation.  
  
“...Colton, this is kind of random, but do you have...someone you're seeing...back home?”  
  
Holy Jesus.  
  
He had to handle this gracefully. Why was it that they didn't cover Letting Down Easy 101 in Health and Wellness back in high school? It left people like him drifting around aimlessly, holding out chords to fill the awkward silence, begging God to give him the words to say before he remembered he was pissed at Him and vetoing the request because he knew he'd only get static in return. But regardless of the anger he had, he knew he couldn't change his honesty, not here, not like this. And so he dipped his head and said a soft “No.”  
  
“Oh.” She shifted. She looked like she was about to burst out of her skin with nerves. “Well, that's...that's too bad.”  
  
Somewhere he heard a distant sound of a facepalm, and he wondered if Skylar was tucked just out of sight in the hallway. “I mean, it's okay. It's just...how things are supposed to be right now.” His cheeks were turning red. He registered the strange and stupid hope that there wasn't a telepath in the room that could see the images playing before his mind's eye right now.  
  
Hollie rubbed her hands together. He knew that gesture from how often she'd done it just before she was about to take the stage. “Yeah. I-I'm not seeing anybody right now either.”  
  
She sounded depressingly forlorn about that, and Colton couldn't help but look at her and say the first words on his mind. “Well, that's because boys are typically idiots. Don't take it to heart.”  
  
She smiled at him brightly, almost beaming, and he could almost hear the hopeful fanfare playing in her mind. “Thanks, Colt. That's sweet of you.”  
  
Oh, hell.  
  
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat, gearing up for some dramatic show of courage. It was probably entirely his fault. “...so, umm, are you gonna come visit me next? Since I'm right there in Nashville and all.”  
  
“Would you like me to?” he asked after only a tiny amount of reluctant hesitation.  
  
“I think it'd be fun!” She grinned at him. “I know I've been in college for a couple of years now, but there's still a _ton_ I don't know about Nashville. You could probably take me out, show me all the sights...”  
  
She was asking him out on a date. He was both so floored and so dismayed by this that he honestly didn't know how to respond.  
  
She seemed to pick up on that. “...but, you know, if you're going to be busy and all-”  
  
“No, no, it's not that!” God help him, but he couldn't just crush her hopes and dreams. He wasn't interested, but she was still _Hollie_ , for Christ's sake, and that meant she was adorable and precious and huggable and that he'd probably be lynched by Joshua if he found out Colton had been stupid enough to break her heart. “I-I just...I mean, I'm gonna be sticking close to Murfreesboro for a while, you know, for Schyler and all that...”  
  
Her face softened. It was a relief to see, really, because he could see the exact moment she was able to sit there and think, _Oh, it's not my fault, it's because he's so worried about his sister!_ And then he realized that would probably make him all the more desirable in her eyes. Jesus, he couldn't win, could he? “I completely understand.” She hesitated, and then she reached out and squeezed his shoulder, her cheeks flaming as she did so. “You're a good brother, Colton. I think it's really sweet that you want to be there to take care of her.”  
  
He gulped. He was hyperaware of her hand on his shoulder, of how the jitters he felt in his muscles were from nerves as opposed to the sheer force of desire he'd felt when Phil had touched him in the same place only minutes before. And that, more than anything, confused him, even made him a little more nervous. It didn't make sense. “Thank you, Hollie” was all he could manage.  
  
She smiled again. “You're welcome.” And then she looked over her shoulder, and he knew for a fact that Skylar was hovering somewhere nearby. “Well, I should...probably go. We're probably going to run out and go shopping with Elise and Erika, so...”  
  
“That's awesome.” He forced her a smile. “You guys have fun, okay?”  
  
“Oh, you know it!” And then she hopped to her feet and hurried down the hallway, which immediately exploded into whispers as soon as she disappeared.  
  
He couldn't play anymore. He sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face with a slow sigh. Funny. If this scene had been taking place a year ago, he would have been pleased that Hollie was interested in him. She was a cute girl. There had been times on the show that he'd wondered what it would be like to be with her, someone fun and adorable and naïve, someone that matched him to a tee in that regard. They would have gone out on a date or two, and he fancied that they probably would have become pretty serious too. But now things were different. Now his tastes leaned toward people who were impossibly passionate, who could stop time just with their eyes.  
  
He'd never seen anything more powerful than when Phil and Elise had made love the night before. Never. He remembered how beautiful it was to sleep with Elise, how brilliantly the very air around the two of them had shone, but it didn't compare to what he saw between them. They might as well have been touching Heaven. They'd instinctively known how to move. They'd changed pace at the exact same time. And even from where he had been sitting, he'd known that they fit together like a puzzle.  
  
No matter how pissed he was at God, he registered instantly that He'd made the two of them to fit together like that. And it had been incredible to witness.  
  
Because of that fit, that synchronization, when they'd turned that intensity on him, when they'd worked together with him in mind, he'd almost fallen apart. Hell, he _had_ fallen apart there at the end, when he'd burst at the very seams and cried like a baby. To this moment he still didn't know why he had, except that he'd been so overwhelmed by feeling that he wondered why he'd lived in such a dry, unassuming way for so long.  
  
He was changing, he realized, and more than he'd ever intended to if people like Phil and Elise were more attractive to him now than people like Hollie. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
  
The gaggle of girls flooded into the living room, then, talking and laughing, and he looked up and met Elise's eyes immediately. “Going shopping, Colt,” she called. “You wanna come?”  
  
He chuckled. After last night, he could only imagine that she'd somehow find a moment to drag him into a changing room with her and blow all conscious thought from his mind. “No thanks. I can dress myself, but I'm pretty useless when it comes to dressing somebody else.”  
  
“All right, fine.” She looked around. “Where's Phil and Heejun?”  
  
“Making lunch, I think. You guys gonna eat somewhere else?”  
  
“Mm-hmm, at the mall. Tell them to just put ours in the fridge or something and we'll eat it before tonight, okay?”  
  
“You got it.” As the girls turned to go, he called out to them again. “Hey, don't get anything too nice! I don't wanna have the spend the night beating guys off you with a stick!”  
  
She grinned at him over her shoulder, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I don't think you gotta worry about that.” She sent him a playful wink that had him blushing all over again. “See you in a few hours!”  
  
“Bye, ladies.”  
  
Somehow he had the feeling that whatever she was going to pick out, she was going to do it according to how crazy it would drive him and Phil. He couldn't quite figure out how okay he was with that right now.  
  
~~  
  
She'd forgotten the atmosphere of a club, Elise realized. It was different from just a bar. At a bar, most of the people were there to watch the TV on game nights, to flirt with the bartenders, maybe every once and a while to pick up a desperate date or two. But at a club, _everybody_ was there to have a good time. She could swear that the very air smelled of sex just from how many pheromones were drifting around. Girls were dressed in next-to-nothing and the boys were openly admiring them, and she couldn't even count the number of STDs that were probably gonna get thrown around before the night was over.  
  
It didn't take long for everybody to break apart once they'd arrived. They stayed in their group for a minute, maybe two tops, and then they'd split off into the factions that were basically habit at this point: her and Erika, Phil and Heejun, and Skylar, Hollie, and Colton. But though she'd come to anticipate these groups forming, tonight it felt weird, the three of them being in three separate places. She'd dressed to kill in her skirt and off-the-shoulder top, fully expecting that it'd make Phil and Colton linger a little closer to her, but now she realized that they were taking this whole keep-as-much-distance-between-us-as-possible thing more seriously than she was.  
  
Erika hadn't said anything this morning. She hadn't noticed a damn thing. But even if she had, Elise was a pretty terrible liar. It would have only taken two words, and Erika would have been able to read every single thing on her face. She couldn't help but wonder how Phil was faring with someone like Heejun, someone who acted dumb but seemed to have a pretty decent grasp on why people acted the way they did. If anything, Colton was the lucky one in this scenario. The girls knew him, and one even had a ridiculous crush on him, but at the end of the day they couldn't read his face. They couldn't read into his soul.  
  
It was a lonely life, she thought, not having someone who could understand you that way. Her eyes wandered to him across the room and there they stayed.  
  
Hollie was turning on the charm. It was intuitive for her, Elise was realizing. It didn't matter that she had the worldly knowledge of a fifteen-year-old valley girl, that she was as experienced as Lady Gaga was reserved, because every movement she made, every bat of her eyelashes, was something ingrained in her. She was leaning close to Colton right now, touching his arm to lure him down so she could say something in his ear, and Elise found herself studying Colton's face, waiting for an inevitable reaction.  
  
It came. He grinned down at Hollie and met her eyes with a shake of his head. If the lights weren't so low, she was almost certain she'd see a blush on his cheeks.  
  
She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and looked away. No intruding. No coming close. Keep that distance. Keep it strong.  
  
“Girl, what're you doing?” Erika's voice called Elise back to the present. “There's nothing exciting on the floor. You think you're gonna pick up a date looking down there?”  
  
Elise chuckled. “When I dodge a vomit puddle and you walk those expensive boots right into it, then we can talk.” She leaned closer to Erika, drawing strength from her, letting her mere presence settle her stomach and quiet her mind. “What makes you think I wanna pick up a date anyway?”  
  
“...because it's fun?” Erika grinned. “You get high off of dancing with them, they buy you your drinks, a little flirting gets the heart pumping...why _wouldn't_ you want to, that's the real question.”  
  
“I've done a lot of that, Erika.” Without warning Phil caught her eye, and she flinched away. “Maybe it's time to settle down, you know? Get my focus back.”  
  
Erika clicked her tongue. “Suit yourself. Whatever makes you happy. You don't do enough of that happiness thing these days.”  
  
While it was lonely not to have anybody who could read your mind, it was equally disconcerting to have somebody that knew things about you that you didn't even know yourself. Elise bobbed her head and pretended she hadn't even heard her over the music.  
  
A strange little skitter came down her spine, and she turned her head in the direction where it came from. Phil. Always Phil. They were magnets, weren't they? No matter how far she stayed away from him, no matter how close she stayed to Erika and he stayed to Heejun, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander back to him. And, more often than not, he was watching her back.  
  
What was on his mind? Was he thinking about last night? Was he satisfied that he'd finally had her? Had Colton? Or did he want more? Was he as stuck in the cycle of remembering it, reliving it, as she was? When he was pouring his drink to go with lunch, was he remembering being between her thighs? When he was shaving in the bathroom, was he thinking about Colton's lips pressed against his neck? Or had he forgotten it all?  
  
She looked again. She caught his eyes just before he looked at Heejun and laughed about something he'd said, lifting the glass of beer to his lips.  
  
She bit her bottom lip just before she looked up at Erika and smiled. “Hey, I'm gonna get a drink. You want anything?”  
  
Erika was distracted with staring across the dance floor, where a particularly attractive Justin Timberlake clone was holding court. “No, you go ahead. I'm gonna go get friendly with the locals,” she called back with waggling eyebrows and a grin. “Wish me luck!”  
  
“You don't need it!” Elise said with a laugh as Erika bustled away.  
  
Her hands hovered awkwardly around her hips for a long moment before she moved, making her way to the bar. She found an empty spot at the counter and leaned into it, patiently watching the bartender, unwilling to call her attention away from the drinks she was making when she knew just how stressful an experience it was. The girl's hands were shaking a little as she poured the draft, telling her that either she was new or she'd already had a long, trying night, bless her heart. Elise settled for tapping her nails gently against the counter in rhythm with the heavy bass in the air while her stiletto drummed out a slower syncopation.  
  
She felt him before she saw him. Elise glanced to the side just before a hand brushed against her waist, a small smile already on her lips for when she met Phil's gaze. He was studying her with a little smirk as he angled himself against the counter and cocked out his hip. “Having fun?” he asked.  
  
Elise chuckled. “Is that the super-smooth line you use on all the girls?” she teased, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
He looked away even as his smirk spread a little wider. He was scanning the people, she knew, watching for a wayward fangirl, for a wandering Hollie or Heejun, and she took the opportunity to soak up his face, to drink him in like she'd just crossed the Sahara. “Nah,” he said softly, so softly she barely even caught it over the music, though the dryness of his words rang out loud and clear. “Most of them're too smart for lines back in Leesburg.”  
  
“Gee, thanks,” she said back just as dryly. “I'll take that as a compliment.”  
  
Phil cocked a brow as he studied her from the corner of his eye, wrinkles deepening with his smirk. “Besides...since when do I need a line with you?”  
  
She lifted both eyebrows to her hairline, her jaw dropping before she let a surprised laugh escape. “Excuse me?”  
  
“I know you too well, Elise,” he said, leaning toward her with a languid look in his eyes. “I know when you're soakin' 'em for me. Always have.”  
  
He was playing games with her again, just like he had before everything exploded last night. But this time she saw it for what it was. He wasn't trying to be malicious. He wasn't even necessarily being flirtatious. He had a keen lust for power, whether he recognized it or not, and he was letting it sneak out without even realizing it. She had a feeling the glass in his hands contributed to it. No telling how many refills he'd already had.  
  
Well. Two could play with power and control, couldn't they? She leaned in just like he had, just as languidly, and was gratified when he flicked his eyes over her, letting them linger for a moment on her cleavage. “Oh yeah?” she asked. Her curls tickled her neck as she tilted her head to the side. “If you know me so well...what am I thinking right now?”  
  
A quick little exhale shot past his lips before he chuckled and shook his head. “You don't pull punches, do you?”  
  
“You tell me.” She reached out and plucked the tall glass from his hand without a fight and watched the amusement grow on Phil's face as she took a long drink of his beer.  
  
He gave one more quick little glance around before he touched two fingers to her dangling wrist and leaned in toward her ear. “You're thinking about last night.” She heard the smile on his words even as he began to draw little maddening circles over her pulse. “You've been thinking about it all day.”  
  
She took another sip of his beer to hide her blushing cheeks, dropping her eyes to the wide expanse of his chest peeking out from his unused buttons.  
  
“You're wondering what I'm thinking about.” He lifted his other hand to smooth a few locks of hair away from her ear, the tips of his fingers grazing her cheek. “Wondering if maybe I'm thinking about the same thing.”  
  
Warm condensation fogged up the glass when she exhaled a shuddering breath against the edge. “Are you?”  
  
“You really wanna know?” His grin widened.  
  
“Mm.” She nodded, her fingers tightening around his glass.  
  
He shook his head. “I'm not thinking about last night. I'm thinking about right here, right now...and a certain promise I made a girl about a little fuck against the wall.”  
  
It was only by the grace of God that she didn't drop the glass right where she stood. Phil rescued her, slipping it away and throwing back the last dregs of beer, his eyes never leaving hers. The glass clinked against the bar with a sense of finality when he placed it back down. No matter how long she stared at him, trying to figure out if she'd actually heard him say what she thought she had, she refused to believe it.  
  
He was still smirking, but his eyelids were growing a little heavier. The beer was getting to him. She wondered if he was drunk or just uninhibited. “So c'mon,” he murmured. “You up for it?”  
  
She breathed out slowly. “You're serious, aren't you?”  
  
“Serious as a heart attack.”  
  
Heat rushed downward from her head to her toes in one smooth, fluid motion, like she'd just stepped under a furnace vent. “Right here, right now?”  
  
He lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “Why not?”  
  
Her eyes flew around the room. He didn't just say shit like this idly. He had a plan in mind, and she wanted to see if she could figure it out before he so casually informed her of it like the little smartass he could be. “I mean, it'd be pretty hard to duck away-”  
  
“There's bathrooms. There's an abandoned alleyway.”  
  
She touched a hand to her lips to stifle the stunned, nervous laugh that suddenly bubbled up. “Jesus, you did research.”  
  
“Maybe.” Phil reached out and took her other hand, giving it a tiny squeeze. “You're honestly gonna tell me you've never done something like this before?”  
  
“And you _have?_ ” Hannah was more uninhibited than she'd thought.  
  
Phil grinned at her. “What d'you say?”  
  
How had she gone a year without having this man, and now she could have him every night? Her body didn't understand it. Her mind understood it even less. But her heart was pounding and she was burning and if she didn't do this she thought she might explode. “All right. Let's do it.”  
  
He chuckled. And then he cocked his head toward the front door, letting his eyes wander toward it. “C'mon. Let's get some air. See if we can't cool you down,”  
  
He let go of her hand, and her skin immediately began to keen at the loss of it. She was becoming addicted to him, she realized, addicted in every way. They strolled side-by-side, just enough distance between them, and she glanced about as she tried to pick out anybody who could be an issue. Erika was dancing with the J.T. clone. Heejun was chatting with Skylar and a few locals at the bar, his back to them. And then she saw Hollie, and inevitably Colton, leaning back against one of the walls.  
  
Colton. _Colton_.  
  
She instinctively took a little step away from Phil as she plunged her eyebrows downward, drowning in a sudden confusion. Something didn't make sense. She couldn't figure it out. There was a taste of disloyalty that she didn't understand.  
  
 _Nothing's exclusive_ , she thought, and when she looked at Phil she realized he hadn't looked anywhere but her. He wanted _her_ , nobody else. And right now, she wanted him more than she wanted air. She couldn't say the same about Colton. He was there with Hollie, talking with her, _smiling_ with her, so engrossed that he didn't even notice when the two of them walked past. So why bother making things confusing?  
  
They ducked outside. He captured her hand and led her around the building, to the quiet back alleyway. And when he pressed her against the wall and kissed her like a starving man, she gave just as good as she got.


	25. Chapter 25

“Colt! C'mon, man, we're watching a movie upstairs!”  
  
Colton glanced up at Heejun with a smile. “Do I have a choice?”  
  
“Do you ever?” he asked dryly. “We're just waiting on you and Elise. Got all the popcorn, the Raisinets, the soda...”  
  
Elise came around the corner. “Start it without me, guys.” She waved her bathrobe and grinned. “If I don't get a soak, I'm gonna lose my mind. And I know ya'll don't wanna wait until I'm all pruny to get started.”  
  
Colton felt his skin start to keen before he was even aware of the first taste of loneliness. He flicked his eyes back and forth between Elise and Heejun even as the Asian man 'tch'ed and waved her off. “Fine, fine...Colt? C'mon, you can't just leave us hanging.”  
  
“Actually...” He drew the word out as he sorted through his thoughts. He spoke again before he knew what was going to come out. “I was going to go outside, have some prayer time, some solo meditation, you know.”  
  
Elise was staring at him so hard that he swore he could feel it. He fought not to look at her.  
  
“Oh, fine.” Heejun looked marginally deflated, but he'd bounce back pretty fast. He always did. “Hey, come up after you're done, okay? We're watching Inception.”  
  
“Totally.”  
  
All three of them separated, Heejun to the stairs, Colton to his room, and Elise to the bathroom. Somehow he knew that she watched him until he shut his door.  
  
He pressed himself against the door with a quick, hard sigh. His heart was pounding so hard that he could see his pulse right before his eyes. And all through it his thoughts were buzzing, scattered, split right down the middle, trying to understand how quickly the lie had fallen right from his lips. The fact that he'd so easily lied out of a strange desperation to spend more time with her...  
  
He ran his hand over his face. He wasn't sure he liked how his cells were trying to pull him toward the bathroom.  
  
The water kicked on. He waited five ticks, and then he opened his door.  
  
A quick glance up and down the hallway told him that it was abandoned, and if he listened hard enough he could hear the sounds of Inception coming from the stairs. This was it, now or never. Accept the pull or reject it.  
  
He heard her softly begin to sing, and it was all over.  
  
He couldn't pick out the words, not when the water was pouring so hard, but just the timbre of her tone, just the elegance of the way her voice slid from one note to the next in a long run that she made seem effortless, it sucked him in like she was a siren. He hovered at the door, fingers on the knob, and wanted to sink into the wood where he could listen to her for an hour. But he couldn't do that. There was only one thing he _could_ do. He turned the knob.  
  
She was pouring a capful or two of bubble bath into the water, igniting the air with the scent of lilacs, and even when he quietly clicked the door shut she kept her back to him. There was something coy, he thought, in the way that she slithered out of her t-shirt, but there were dueling emotions inside of him, both intoxication and discomfort at witnessing something so vulnerable without her express permission, and it made him avert his eyes with a gulp. They flitted to the mirror on the wall first, but before they could jolt away from her reflection he realized something: she was watching him right from the corner of her eye.  
  
Elise smiled as she glanced over her shoulder. “I had a feeling you'd find your way here.”  
  
His cheeks had never been so red. He felt like a child who'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar. It was sheer instinct that made him reply with a quick “Sorry.”  
  
She chuckled as she gathered her curls over one shoulder. “Always apologizing. What am I gonna do with you, Colton?”  
  
He shook his head. “I don't know.”  
  
“Ah, an _honest_ answer.”  
  
Guilt pricked at him. He looked at the floor.  
  
“What's on your mind, Dixon?” she asked softly, so he could barely catch it over the running water. “What are you looking so nervous for? C'mere.”  
  
He didn't know why he was feeling like this. Everything about this woman had the ability to make him so incredibly anxious no matter how long he was around her, no matter how intimately he knew her. She had a power that he had to tread softly over, lest he step too heavily and ruin the strange balance between them.  
  
He approached her, locking his hands behind his neck, and tried not to stare as she kicked her jeans off. “I...I missed you.”  
  
She grinned at him. “You saw me off and on all day yesterday and today. We went out together last night.”  
  
“Yeah, but, I mean...”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Really I barely saw you, y'know? You were shopping all day, and you went home early last night, and...”  
  
“And you missed me.”  
  
Was that such a bad thing? He stared at her, trying to weigh what she wanted to hear. “...yeah. Yeah, I did.”  
  
She studied him just as closely, eyes narrowing a little in thought, before she turned to face him. “C'mere.” The second she held out her hands he came to her and touched his palms to hers, but she didn't hesitate to let her hands slide over his arms, to cup his elbows just before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  
  
The second her fingers touched the hem of his shirt he jolted in surprise. “Wait, I, uh...”  
  
“What?” she asked, her eyes sparkling in a certain degree of mirth.  
  
He held his hands up like she had a gun to his stomach. “I just...I-I didn't come here to...”  
  
“Every other man I've ever been with,” she murmured, “would've probably jumped a border and killed a man to sleep with me when the chips finally ran out. And here you are trying to avoid it.” He waited for her to look insulted, to kick him out, but she only smiled a little wider as she touched his cheek. “You're unbelievable, Dixon. Absolutely unbelievable. All right, fine.” She huffed out a little sigh. “No sex.” She patted his cheek in a perfectly platonic way before she turned away from him to turn off the bathwater. “Take off your clothes.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“Shh!” She was on the verge of giggling, and he found himself wondering if she'd snuck off with Phil to have a couple of shots or something. She wasn't acting anything like he'd been expecting. “Do you want anybody to know where you are? Now c'mon, take 'em off!”  
  
He swore that he could feel the energy rushing just under his skin from how quickly his body started buzzing. He let out a quick, shuddering breath as his eyes flicked over her body of their own accord. “I-I thought I just said I-”  
  
She looked over her shoulder one more time even as she unclasped her bra without a hint of shame and let it fall to the floor, exposing slightly pinched marks along her back that he had to fight off the desire to rub away from her skin. “Colton. Your virtue is safe with me.” Her gaze softened. “Will you just trust me?”  
  
He wanted to. He really did. He licked his lips, dropped his eyes to the floor, and nodded.  
  
“Good.” Moments later a pair of panties appeared at his feet, and he heard her step into the bathwater.  
  
He undressed slowly, trying to figure out what she wanted from him. Did she just want to look at him? Admire him? He wasn't the most muscly man in the world, unsurprisingly. He was skinny without definition. He had just as many self-esteem issues as any other person around. He couldn't imagine why she'd want to sit back and watch him when she could have a man like Phil to study instead. But apparently she _did_ want to, and denying her seemed particularly cruel.  
  
 _Phil_. The name struck him suddenly, and he looked over his shoulder as he dropped his jeans to the floor.  
  
“What is it?” Elise asked quietly.  
  
He shook his head. “It's just...it's kind of weird.”  
  
“What is?”  
  
“That Phil's not here.”  
  
She was quiet for a long few moments. “Hey, do me a favor and hit the switch for the fan? It's a little steamy in here.”  
  
He did as she asked. When he was naked, one arm awkwardly wrapped around his stomach and the other dangling by his side, resisting the urge to cover himself, he looked up at her again.  
  
Her eyes were on his, and they stayed there as she smiled. “Cold?” she asked. “Come on. Get in.”  
  
His heart skipped a beat. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah.” She tilted her head toward the tub. “What, you afraid?”  
  
“Shut up.” But he couldn't fight a smile any more than she could. He tentatively approached the bathtub, hesitating in indecision, and when Elise scooted forward and gestured behind her he carefully climbed in.  
  
As he sat there was a moment of adjusting, as there always seemed to be with them, until she touched his legs and guided them to slide on either side of her own. When she leaned back into his chest it was only natural that he wrap his arms around her.  
  
This woman had taught him so damn much. She'd taught him how to keep smiling on Idol. She'd taught him how to perform smooth vocal runs. She'd taught him how to make love. She'd taught him how to lose himself in sensuality. And now, he realized as he fought to catch his breath and to contain himself, she was teaching him yet another way to find almost unfathomable intimacy with another person.  
  
“Comfortable?” she murmured.  
  
“Mm.” He rested his forehead on the back of her head and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.  
  
The water sloshed gently around them as she touched a hand to his thigh beneath the surface, and he tensed for a moment before he realized that she wasn't doing anything more with it. She was simply touching him. Establishing yet another current of intimacy. He tightened his hold on her and exhaled slowly, shocked to hear how shaky he was.  
  
“Weird, isn't it?” she asked softly, only just breathing out the words.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“Being here. Feeling this. Feeling that energy.”  
  
God, but he did. He felt everything about her. He didn't know how to understand it. But then again, he was quickly getting better at not trying to understand anything, at just letting all sense of logic go, at just _feeling_. “It's incredible,” he whispered. He could almost feel her smile rather than see it, and when she reached to grab a shower pouf and covered it in purple shower gel, he plucked it from her hands with a soft “Uh-uh. Let me.”  
  
She glanced over her shoulder just enough to catch him from the corner of her eye before she nodded and relaxed again.  
  
He started with her arm, gently sudsing up the floral soap over her forearm until bubbles were exploding from the pouf. He ran it over her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, making sure every minute part of her body was clean.  
  
They were silent through all of it until he urged her to sit up and began to wash her back. She tilted her head forward, her curls dipping slightly into the surface, and as the light caught on her damp skin he realized that there were a few more marks than he'd seen earlier. As the pinch left from her bra faded away, it left small scrapes, barely visible, but a touch of his fingers over them told him that they were recent enough to still be raised scabs.  
  
He furrowed his eyebrows. “What happened here?” The way she tensed made him push on. “Did you...fall down?”  
  
She was quiet for a long few seconds before she sighed. “There's something...that I might have to apologize to you for. Or I might not. I can't figure it out.”  
  
His eyes jerked to the back of her head. “What?”  
  
“Because there's something inside me that says that it doesn't matter because you and I aren't like...we're not... _dating_ , but there's something else that says that yeah, we're not dating, because what we have goes _beyond_ that...”  
  
“What is it?” he pressed.  
  
Elise began cupping her hands and letting water drip down her chest, washing away the suds there. “When I left the club early last night...when Phil left too...we left together. We went outside, in the little alley that went to the back of the building. And we had sex.”  
  
The air left him in a rush.  
  
“He was a little drunk and he was a little desperate and I...I just wanted him really bad.”  
  
He could almost see it right there, right before his eyes: Phil pressing Elise against the wall and hitching up her skirt, Elise wrapping her legs around his waist, him pounding her into the bricks, her shirt sliding up a little more with each thrust until the rough stone scratched at her skin and drew the faintest bit of blood.  
  
“He...needed somebody, you know? He needed _me_. So I gave me to him.”  
  
They'd needed each other. They hadn't needed him.  
  
There was an acrid taste in the back of his throat, right on his tongue, as he let the pouf go and watched it bob through the steaming water. Elise touched his forearm and wrapped her fingers clean around it, slender as it was, and he stared at the muscle that tensed under her touch, wondered if his arms would be strong enough to carry her, to hold her as he pressed her into a wall and slid through her slick folds.  
  
“...do I need to apologize, Colt?” she asked softly.  
  
He came back to the present in a rush, sucking in a breath he hadn't known he'd needed until the world began to blur before his eyes. “I...” He blinked, trying to make sense of the world again. “Did I...do something wrong the other night?”  
  
“ _No_ , Colton,” she pressed. She cupped his cheek. “No, it wasn't anything you did or didn't do or...God, to be honest, I don't know if Phil was even thinking of you.”  
  
A stake through his ribs. He furrowed his eyebrows. “But you did?”  
  
She looked pained. “I...I didn't know...if you'd let me. I didn't know if...” She let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, more sad than anything. “Goddamn, but we're in a weird situation, Colt. Okay? I don't understand it. I don't think you get it any more than I do. We all, we...we had sex, okay? All three of us. But we all did...things...with each other separately _before_ that happened. Does the fact that we all slept together mean that we can't do things separately any more? Because, if so, you shouldn't have even come in here.”  
  
“I didn't come in here to _fuck_ you,” he murmured with the slightest touch of irritability on his tone. “I came in here because I _missed_ you, because I just...wanted to see you, to spend some time with you, to-”  
  
“How do you think it looks to me, huh? You come in here. You watch me start to undress. Are you kidding me? You think I think it's gonna be perfectly platonic?” She turned onto her hands and knees and hovered close to him, almost straddling him, and he clutched the side of the bathtub with a white-knuckled hand. “What am I supposed to think?”  
  
“You _know_ me, though! You know I'm not just some _sex machine_ or something. I'm _me_. Sex scares the hell out of me! You're supposed to know that.”  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes, her face mournful. “God, why are we fighting?” she whispered. “This is so fucking stupid.”  
  
Even with the anger, the tension, the acrid taste brewing just inside of him, he couldn't stand to see her like this. She looked so defeated. He reached up and touched her cheek, droplets of water falling from his hand to spread ripples through the water.  
  
She opened her eyes. She stared at him seriously. “Please, Colt. Do I need to apologize? I need to know.”  
  
He'd made her look like this. He'd taken that fun, that teasing, out of her face. He couldn't stand it. He leaned forward and gently kissed her lips, a quick peck. And then he shook his head. “No.”  
  
The relief that flowed off of her was so ridiculously palpable that he should have been able to laugh. He couldn't.  
  
“This discussion isn't finished,” she whispered, turning her face to press a kiss to the inside of his palm. “It isn't. But Phil, he needs to be there. We need to figure this out with him.”  
  
He huffed out a quiet breath. “If he didn't think of me then, why do we even need to drag him into it?”  
  
She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Don't be like this, Colt. Please. He needs to know if...if we can't do something like that again.”  
  
Colton's eyes had wandered away to rest on the wall, and he focused on his steady breathing, on that alone, because his thoughts were too shaky, too volatile.  
  
“He needs to help us figure out...what this _is_.”  
  
“The sooner the better,” Colton whispered.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“When?”  
  
She nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought. “...we have to wait until we have an excuse to be together, don't we? Where we know nobody's gonna just...come up and overhear us?”  
  
So much hiding. He ran his wet hand through his hair. “Tonight. Out on the beach.”  
  
“No, that's too soon. If we wander off together when everyone's watching that movie, someone will get suspicious.”  
  
There was only so long they could hide in plain sight. “So we go out shopping tomorrow. Just the three of us.”  
  
Elise frowned. “Even if I _did_ want to have this conversation out in a coffee shop somewhere, you know Erika's gonna come with if shopping's involved. No, we have to wait until tomorrow afternoon or night. Just...just slip away, when everyone else is distracted.”  
  
He stared at her as he processed her words. That wasn't any different from doing it tonight. No, she _wanted_ to wait a day. Why was that? What did she have planned? And why couldn't he loosen his tongue enough to ask? He sighed. “Okay. Tomorrow.”  
  
“I'll tell him,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the door. “You'd better get out of here, head outside. You're supposed to be meditating, remember?”  
  
There was a dryness on her tone that made him flinch. She was pointing out his lie again, bringing it right back to the surface. He didn't know how he liked that. But he nodded. “Okay.” He didn't want to fight anymore. He couldn't handle it, not now, not when his life was so unbalanced. He stepped out of the water and grabbed the towel Elise had set aside for herself, turning his back to her as he dried off. He almost jumped out of his skin when she touched his calf with warm fingers. “What?”  
  
“Colt, I just...” She looked down at the floor. The silence stretched out forever before she cleared her throat and shook her head. “Never mind.”  
  
He couldn't be here with her staring at him, with a thickness in the air that he didn't understand, not any longer. He pulled on his jeans without any regard for his boxers, his shirt without any regard for his vest, and balled up everything else and stuck it under his arm. He barely had the presence of mind to touch his ear to the door, to listen for any footsteps, before he opened it and peeked. Nobody. He flew down the hall to his bedroom, his wet feet slapping against the floor.  
  
He'd only just touched the doorknob when he heard Hollie's soft voice. “Colton?”  
  
Colton turned his head quickly, eyes wide, but felt his heart slow back to a normal rhythm when he saw she was still standing on the stairs. Too far up to be a danger. “Yeah?”  
  
She looked hesitant, her fingers curling into a fist against her hip. That flirtatiousness she'd been turning on him, that interest, seemed to wane when there wasn't anyone else around to encourage it. “I, umm...” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before tilting her head to the side. “Are you gonna come upstairs? I saved you a seat.”  
  
God, she was determined. Normally it would have made him smile a little, but tonight he felt something inside of him shrinking, hiding away. “In a...in a minute. I've gotta...” His head was still spinning. He blinked and tried to come back into focus. “I'm gonna call Schyler. See how she is.”  
  
Hollie nodded quickly, biting her bottom lip. “Mm-hmm. Okay.” When she smiled, he knew instantly that it was forced. She looked more pained than anything. “Tell her we all said hi.”  
  
“You bet.”  
  
Hollie dipped her head before she started back up the stairs. There was a moment where Colton wanted to call her back, wanted to apologize for reasons that he didn't even understand, but he didn't. He let her go. He watched her ascend until she was at the very peak of the stairs and all he could see was her legs. Only then did he come into his bedroom and shut the door.  
  
The clothes went flying. He chucked them straight at the wall with such force that he almost dislodged a painting, and he exhaled sharply before dragging his fingers through his hair and sinking down to his knees. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't understand why things had seemed so perfect, why that night had been so luminescent, and now they didn't even...he squinted his eyes shut so tightly that pain radiated through his head like a spike.  
  
He needed to cry. He needed to scream. No, he couldn't do either of those things. He curled into the tightest ball he could manage, until his forehead touched the ground and his chin felt his heartbeat, and there he stayed.  
  
“I hate You,” he whispered. “I hate You I hate You I hate You...”


	26. Chapter 26

“Can we talk?”  
  
A little chill shot through Phil. He waited a long few seconds before he glanced up from his cell phone to meet Elise's eyes. A billion responses came to mind, but he was too tired to pick anything but the frankest. “Should I be worried?”  
  
She gave a little smile, but not the full, natural one he was used to seeing. This one was missing its vibrance. While he was sure she meant to reassure him it just made him all the more nervous. “That depends.”  
  
“On what?”  
  
“On...” She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip. “...on a lot of things.”  
  
He shifted. Not exactly what he was crazy about hearing.  
  
As she sat on the couch across from him and smoothed out her skirt, framed by the moonlight, Phil ran a hand through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp just enough to keep him tethered, to stop him from zoning in on the quiet thoughts beginning to whisper right in the back of his mind. Elise's voice drowned them out. “I think we kind of need to...have a talk.”  
  
“A talk.”  
  
“A...preliminary talk.”  
  
He blinked. “Don't that typically mean it's coming _before_ something else?”  
  
She should have teased him, maybe reached out to swat at his arm, but instead she hesitated just before she nodded. “Right.”  
  
“Shit,” he whispered, turning his eyes to the other side of the room.  
  
Silence. Her skirt rustled as she leaned forward. “We need to talk about Colton.”  
  
His eyes widened. “Why? What'd he do?”  
  
“Nothing, nothing, he...he just...” She sighed. “Look, us, all _three_ of us, we need to figure some things out. But I think you and me need to lay some foundation for it all.”  
  
She had a reason for saying this. The question was why. Did he have a reason to tense all his muscles like he was? He exhaled slowly, audibly, and lifted his eyes to meet hers as he slid his phone from one hand to the other, back and forth. “Look, Elise...I appreciate you trying to ease into this, but I'm gonna be honest with you: it'll probably be a hell of a lot more effective if you just charge on in. Okay? So go for it.”  
  
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Are you okay?”  
  
He tightened his grip on his phone for a long few seconds before he tucked it under his thigh, hiding the illuminated screen. “Yeah. I'm just tired.”  
  
Her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. They hovered there before flicking back to him, studying him, making him shift his weight. “You've been...quiet since the other night. At the club.” He watched the way she looked over his shoulder. Looking for any interlopers, probably. “I was just...wondering if...”  
  
Phil came to his feet. “All right. Outside.”  
  
“What?” She straightened her spine.  
  
“Outside. Now.” He crammed his phone in his pocket just before he took her arm, forcing himself to be gentle, and coaxed her to her feet. “You've got something to say, but you're too scared to say it here. So fine. We'll go out on the deck. Watch the stars. Whatever it takes.”  
  
She followed him easily, but he didn't let her go, not even when he was opening the back door. “I-I just thought that-”  
  
“I'm running out of patience.”  
  
She tugged her arm out of his hold and turned to face him the second they were outside. He avoided her eyes as he shut the door. “What's wrong, Phil?”  
  
“Nothing's-”  
  
“No, stop it. Something's off. I haven't seen you like this in ages.”  
  
“Things happen. They just do.”  
  
She touched his arm, and he instinctively turned to look her in the eye. She had that determined gleam in them, the one that told him she was driving into the situation with all the subtlety of a tank. Nothing was going to stop her. He was afraid that was going to happen. “Then tell me what happened. Maybe I can-”  
  
“You can't fix this one, Elise,” he murmured. She flinched, but he pushed the answering twinge inside of him away. “So don't try.”  
  
She hesitated. And then she took his hands, gently turning them so she could entwine her fingers with his. He drew in a quiet, surprised breath, flicking his gaze to where they were joined, already feeling a tiny bit of sweat stirring on his palms. Why was she doing that? This wasn't how it was with them. This was how it was with... “I don't like it when you push me away,” she murmured back. “I really...I care a lot about you. Okay? You're one of my best friends.” Best friends. Best friends who'd seen each other naked, who'd touched the most intimate parts of each other, who'd made love with a force that could split the planet in half. He loosened his hold on her fingers, but she held all the tighter. “And if I can help you, then I want to.”  
  
She couldn't help him. This was one problem she couldn't make better with her warm eyes, her warm touch. He sighed. “Now's...not the time, Elise.”  
  
He could see she didn't want to let it go that easily. She was a stubborn little thing. She wrapped herself around something and held on no matter how much it thrashed, no matter how much pain it put her through. But she also knew when something was fruitless. She could see when all she'd get out of it was bruises, when not a damn thing would get resolved. He saw that registering in her eyes as she dipped her chin and thought. And then she nodded. “Okay. But when it is, promise you'll come to me?”  
  
He nodded in return. “Okay.” Whatever made her feel better. Whatever made her let it go.  
  
She squeezed his hands one more time before she let one go, before she changed the hold of her other hand to something less intimate, more friendly. The moment had passed, and he could untense a little. She led him to the deck chairs and they both settled into one. He felt his muscles relax as he leaned back and slid his knees toward the sky, almost flat on his back. For a moment they both stared at the stars. They twinkled with a certain fierceness tonight, a perfect backdrop for any moment. He wondered for a moment what would happen if he crawled onto her chair, straddled her hips, kissed her deeply, but he let the thought float right out from where it came.  
  
“I'm confused, Phil,” she said quietly, almost a whisper. “About us.”  
  
Us. Now that was a word with a lot of weight to it. He turned his head to study her strong profile, but she didn't look back.  
  
“Not just...you and me, but...Colton too. All three of us.” She rested her free hand on her stomach, the fingers curling inward into a loose fist. “We're in a hairy place. It doesn't...really make a lot of sense, does it?”  
  
“I don't think we've ever made sense,” he murmured back. “Not really.”  
  
“How's that?”  
  
He shrugged. “You and Erika. Me and Heejun. Colton and Hollie. That makes sense. You two girls with your compassion, us two guys with our humor, him and her with their naivety. It works. It's supposed to be that way, because it brings out all our good qualities. But us? You, me, him?” He shook his head with a little laugh. “We bring out the bad just as much as we bring out the good, you know?”  
  
She wrinkled her brow. “I don't know if I agree with that.”  
  
He paused, collecting his thoughts. “...you and me here, right now, I squashed your compassion, Elise. I wouldn't let you help me. And you brought out my temper, my...avoidance. And you and me, we both took out Colton's naivety.” He narrowed his eyes as images swept past his mind's eye. “When he and I are together, I break his calm. His reserve. And he emphasizes my passion. But not always in a good way. In a way that I just wanna...control something. And you and him, together?” That was harder. He pushed a little more. “I've never...seen it, obviously, but I bet...you start making decisions for him. And he relies on your compassion so much that it makes you a little clingy. Does that make sense?”  
  
She finally looked at him. Her eyes were sad. “I still don't-”  
  
“And I make you more stubborn,” he murmured. Things were getting heavy. He was backpedaling, trying to make her smile. “You can't deny that. I make you wanna rip my hair out, don't I?”  
  
“But we bring out the good too, Phil.” She rolled onto her side and squeezed his hand again. “You make me want to help. He makes me want to protect. And he gives you initiative, and you give him strength. Don't you see that?”  
  
“I see you're blindingly optimistic, as always.” He gave a little smile, more forced than anything, but it felt better than frowning. It felt more relaxed. “And I'm a cynical bastard.”  
  
She sighed. “That's our way. And I guess that's why...I wanna figure this out while we still can. To figure out if the bad is worse than the good. If we should...” She furrowed her brows again as she rolled onto her back once more.  
  
“...if we should make it serious.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Things were whirling through his head faster than he could process them. It wasn't a matter of whether he could make something serious happen with these two. Not anymore. No, now it was about having only the good, or the good and the bad both.  
  
A man like him didn't deserve goodness. Not on the level that he'd had it before. He'd done too much shit, he was starting to realize, enough to turn him into a real bastard – or maybe he'd been that way all along. Maybe he'd just been trying to repress it, and finally – ultimately – failed. Any bad that he got was his just reward.  
  
“I think we should try it,” he murmured.  
  
He felt Elise's grip tighten on his hand, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she slowly turned her head to look at him. “Try what?”  
  
“Being serious.”  
  
Elise exhaled sharply, almost shakily, but he turned his attention back to the stars. There was a part of him that felt legitimately afraid to see what was on her face, whether it was happy or sad, because both had connotations that he wasn't ready to face.  
  
As the moments stretched out, he realized how quiet she was. Not a word. _Shit._ “Elise?”  
  
“Really?” she asked quietly. “All three of us?”  
  
He snorted, more out of nervousness than anything. “Look, I know there's not exactly much precedent, but-”  
  
“No, I mean...” She took another long few moments, collecting her thoughts, making him sweat all the more. “...it sounds like a good idea here, in a fantasy world, but when we get out in the real world again-”  
  
“It's gonna be hard. I of all people know that, Elise.” He felt testy. He was curling his other hand into a painful fist. “I got more to lose than any of us. You and I both know that. But maybe it's okay. Maybe it's worth it.”  
  
“Phil, are you...look, are you just saying this because of Colton?”  
  
“What about Colt?”  
  
“You and me both know that without us, he doesn't have anyone.”  
  
Phil blinked. “He has his family. He has his friends back home.”  
  
“But we're the only ones that know about...about his-”  
  
“His faith?”  
  
“Bingo.”  
  
“You think they're gonna push him away?”  
  
She shrugged. “Or maybe shame him back into it.”  
  
Phil was quiet this time. He drew in a deep breath. “So you think I'd propose something like this...just 'cuz I feel sorry for him.”  
  
“...I just think-”  
  
“When have I ever done anything 'cuz I felt _sorry_ for someone?”  
  
She finally let his hand go as she whipped onto her side. “Look, forgive me for worrying about him, okay? Forgive me for knowing he's fragile. I'll have you know I'd do the same for you.”  
  
“See?” He dragged his hands down his face. “The bad, it's coming out all over the place. And it's all my damn-”  
  
“Don't you even think about saying it's your fault. Okay?” She scooted to sit on the edge of the deck chair, but he noticed she didn't reach for his hand again.  
  
“I'm worried about him too, dammit. I've been worrying about him the past two nights. Wanting to...to go see if he's okay, if he's sleeping, if he wants me to...” He couldn't go on. He sounded like a girl. “You don't think I know him, Elise? I do. I know him better than I should. I always have. The fact that this...thing happened, that I...” That he what? Knew what it was like to have the kid's dick in his mouth? Knew for a fact that he tasted like peppermints from an almost obsessive teeth-brushing habit? Knew the way his breathing sounded when he cried? “...that _we've_ seen him at his weakest...maybe it was always supposed to happen. 'Cuz I could swear the past two years've been building toward it this whole time.”  
  
Elise was watching him with a strange sort of sadness, an intimacy he still wasn't used to. He couldn't hold her gaze for long.  
  
“The kid's biggest enemy is his head. Has been ever since Idol. He thinks, he starts imagining everything that could go wrong. And we can't-”  
  
“If we wanna make this serious, we can't afford that.” He watched her eyes wander to the glass two windows down, the window that he and she both knew belonged to Colton. But there was still a hesitance about her that he didn't understand. She was the optimist. She was the one who wanted things, who wanted so _badly_ to make things work, even if nobody else thought it was possible.  
  
The silence let his thought niggle quietly between his eyes, until he could feel the thunderous pressure of it like a throbbing headache with no pain. And then the veil was lifted. “...you don't think this can be something.”  
  
She whipped her head around to meet his eyes.  
  
“You...you think we can't make it happen, don't you?”  
  
“Phil, that's not-”  
  
“Do you even _want_ it to happen?” he asked softly, narrowing his eyes in confusion.  
  
She huffed out a sigh and nibbled on her nailbed, viciously dragging up a hangnail. She took such fantastic care of her hands that the savage movement gave him pause and made him shut his mouth again. “...something tells me that eventually, whether we like it or not...we're all gonna have to make a choice. I don't know what that choice is. For all I know, we'll have to choose _between_ each other. But...” She ducked her head and pressed her hands together. “...but I don't know if we'll be able to make the right decision. Hell, how will we even know what the right one is? It's exactly like you said, Phil. There's no precedent for something like this. There's _not_.”  
  
“Everything started without a precedent,” he murmured. “It takes something major to make one.”  
  
“Someone strong.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
She met his eyes solemnly, a neutral frown on her lips, and he felt the hair on his arms stand up with the enormity of her gaze, with the intensity therein. He'd become so used to seeing a sensual intensity from her, to feeling it every second he was around her even when he was still with Hannah, even when he was just brushing paths with Elise on the show. It was rare that he saw this kind of power from her instead. “...Phil, I...if...you ever had to choose...” He stiffened. “...who would it be?”  
  
He felt sick inside. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Goddammit, Elise, what kind of question is that? Who would _you_ choose?” He huffed. “I know you couldn't make that decision either.”  
  
Her hands tightened into fists, pressed together at the soft underside of her wrists. Her silence made him a little frightened. Maybe she could.  
  
“What time is it?” he asked.  
  
Elise looked at her wristwatch. He was thankful for the break from looking into her eyes. He felt electricity running through him, a shock that he didn't quite recognize. “One-thirty.”  
  
“We should go to bed.”  
  
“Yeah.” Quiet. “You gonna sleep?”  
  
“I doubt it,” he murmured with a sigh.  
  
She reached out and touched his wrist. “I could help.”  
  
This shock was more easily recognizable. He knew the surge for what it was, for the bone-shaking power that she had over him. But right now, with Colton in his head, with the specter of him wrapping his arms around Phil from behind, he couldn't give in. He rubbed her hand for a second, just a brief brush of his fingers against hers, before he stood up. “I need a clear head tonight. Especially if we're gonna...talk to Colt soon.”  
  
She nodded. She didn't look disappointed, but then again, he _never_ saw her disappointed. He was starting to wonder if she was unshakeable or just a very good actress. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow night. Midnight, on the beach.”  
  
“All right.”  
  
The innocence was back in her eyes. She was easier to approach now, easier to touch. He reached out and brushed his hand through her hair, feeling the smooth curls catch on his fingers, and she nuzzled into his hand like a cat. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.  
  
“See you then.”  
  
He tore himself away and went inside, hoping he could fall asleep before the roar ripped him apart.  
  
~~  
  
She waited there a little longer after he left. She needed to. Erika wouldn't be asleep. Erika would be waiting to talk with her, to gab about what they were going to do after this trip was over. A week. That's all they had left. A week before they went back to their normal lives, their normal relationships.  
  
A week before this, whatever _this_ was, could be changed forever.  
  
Elise rubbed at her eyes, thankful she'd already removed her makeup inside before she'd ever gone looking for Phil. He'd been remarkably easy to find. She'd thought that she might have to text him, to do something to track him down, but no. He'd been there in the living room, on the couch she was starting to think of as belonging to the three of them, just staring at his phone like it was a priceless artifact.  
  
She wrinkled her brow. Why had he been doing that?  
  
It was the moonlight that caught her attention. It sparkled against something in the deck chair across from her, and when she leaned forward to investigate she realized it was the screen of Phil's phone. She remembered how he'd been laying, how he'd pointed his knees straight up at the sky, almost flat on his back. His pockets weren't very deep.  
  
She hesitated. She reached out and took his phone into her hands.  
  
It was still warm from his body heat. She brushed her thumb across the surface and brought it to attention. It went straight to the texts screen.  
  
 _'She misses you.'_ From his mom.  
  
She shouldn't be looking at this. She should be inside, going to bed, putting Phil's phone where he'd find it when he woke up the next morning. She shouldn't be curious. Then again, society said she shouldn't be thinking about entering a relationship with two separate men either. Maybe its rules against spying were wrong too.  
  
 _'She's been over here every day.'_  
  
 _'Doing what?'_ Phil had written back.  
  
 _'Just chores. Asking about you. Yesterday I caught her going through your graduation photo album.'_  
  
 _'She needs to get a life.'_  
  
 _'Don't talk like that, Phil. I know you love her. And she still loves you. Put the poor girl out of her misery and take her back.'_  
  
She dropped the phone in the seat before she dropped it on the ground and broke it.  
  
Let him find it there tomorrow, right where he left it. Let everybody find her sleeping on the couch. Maybe she could convince herself that this was all a dream. Maybe there'd be nothing for Erika to read on her face in the morning. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.


	27. Chapter 27

He couldn't sleep. Colton sat on the edge of his bed and stared out the window, watching the gray fog of the pre-dawn sky, wondering just what turn his life was going to take next. God knew his life had flipped on its head in only six months. In just one night, everything he'd known and understood about himself had changed, had done a one-eighty, and there was no telling which way it'd go next. He couldn't go back, after all. That was a simpler time, one that made sense. Could his life tilt upward in angle instead? Aim toward the sky? No, with his luck, it'd tip straight toward Hell instead.  
  
He rubbed at his eyes with a sharp sigh. Sitting here was dangerous. All these thoughts, these feelings, these shadows that were stirring around in the air, could move. They could stretch out their claws and snag on his pants, pull him to the ground so they could gore him until he was nothing but a shell. He picked his way across his carpet until he came into the hallway.  
  
Soft sounds of snoring were all that greeted him. There was something calling him to the rec room upstairs, where things had changed so definitively, where Elise had even put the idea in his head that this...this _thing_ could be okay between the three of them. That maybe he didn't have to choose. But what did that even mean? Outside these four walls, what the hell was that going to look like?  
  
As he passed Phil's bedroom, he slowed. His fingertips reached out without any warning and brushed the doorknob, like he could feel the essence of the man sleeping away inside. He felt a jolt, a literal shock of static electricity, and he jerked his hand back with a sharp gasp. Funny. Six months ago, he would have interpreted that as a sign.  
  
He hesitated, curling his fingers inward, before stepping away. He knew better than to try the same with Elise's door, especially when Erika was such a light sleeper. He let the pull take him to the stairs instead.  
  
He'd climbed the first few when he heard a door open behind him, and he turned with wide eyes. He immediately met a languid, cool gaze that he knew far too well.  
  
Neither he nor Phil spoke. They stared at each other for long seconds before Colton felt a slow burn build up inside of him, a reminder of how he'd missed the man in the almost two days since they'd even really spoken to each other. He licked his lips, and when Phil's eyes shot downward Colton tightened his grip on the banister.  
  
Colton turned his back to Phil again and resumed climbing the stairs, though he listened more intently than he ever had in his life. He was rewarded with a very quiet creak as Phil eventually followed.  
  
As soon as he reached the top he made his way to the table everything had gone so head-over-heels at. It was softly illuminated in the first rays of the orange sun that were shining through the loft window as it peeked over the horizon of the ocean. He leaned into it, pressing his hands into the surface and splaying his fingers as wide as they could go, and listened for the soft change in breathing as Phil reached the top of the stairs. Only then did he turn to face the older man.  
  
Phil crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps, his eyes wandering over Colton in a lazy promenade from his hair to his toes and back again. His gaze was almost tactile. Colton felt his breath catch in his throat as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't been the only one to do some missing. That was a new thought to him. He didn't know quite how to process it.  
  
He thought Phil would stop when he was a few feet away, but his pace never slowed, never faltered, and Colton found himself leaning back against the table tentatively, like he wanted more space between them. But it didn't matter. Phil ate up every inch of that space until he was pressed flush against Colton, until his hands slid between Colton's arms and waist without touching a single bit of his body and pressed into the table as well.  
  
Colton didn't know how to be this close to Phil. He could feel his heart pounding so hard that he swore his vision was swimming. And that in and of itself was the greatest torture he'd ever felt. Colton didn't want to lose one second of seeing Phil's face, not when he was watching Colton like the world could end and he wanted his last seconds spent soaking him up before it was too late.  
  
“You're thinking,” Phil murmured, his voice pure gravel.  
  
Colton blinked. “I'm what?”  
  
“You're thinking too hard again.” He shook his head. “I dunno if I like that.”  
  
He opened his mouth to ask just what the hell Phil was talking about, but when he began to lean in Colton felt the words be snatched from his lips. The kiss was soft, gentle, tentative, a curious and languid exploration of each other's lips, and when Phil's arms wrapped around Colton's slim waist something inside of him simultaneously broke and flourished.  
  
This was what it felt like to be missed, to be _needed_ , he realized. How many years would he have had to go without this if the past six months hadn't happened?  
  
Colton tentatively wound his own arms around Phil, and the mere pressure seemed to unlock something inside of the older man. He began to lean forward slowly, coaxing Colton to lay back, and even as he did he felt Phil's hand slide up his spine. It cupped the back of his head, fingers sprawling through his hair. Colton gasped at the sheer feeling of cherishment, of desire, and the second his back hit the table Phil's other hand jumped down to his hip, to push upward just hard enough for Colton to slide with the force, to scrabble backward until Phil was following him, hovering right above him.  
  
He didn't understand how easy and natural it was for Phil to pin a knee on either side of Colton's hips, to straddle him until there wasn't a breath of air between them. Faint pressure. The faintest, most blessed pressure where their hips met, just enough to make Colton grab Phil's t-shirt with a bruising grip. And all through it, the kiss never broke. Phil led Colton's lips in a lazy, luxurious pace, never pushing for more, never demanding what Colton realized he was so willing to freely give right here, right on this table, right where anyone could walk in and see them.  
  
He finally knew now what Elise meant when she'd said Phil was too far away, that she needed him closer, because, God, just their hips meeting wasn't enough anymore. He slid his hands under the hem of Phil's t-shirt. He let the greed carry him as he ate up every millimeter of his back with hungry fingertips, ones that pressed all the harder when Phil fed him a quiet groan.  
  
He didn't know whether it was the exhaustion or the intensity of the moment, but he thought he might cry again. It was too much. He was going to be overwhelmed before he even figured out how to handle it.  
  
Phil broke the kiss as if he could read Colton's mind, and he smoothed his fine bangs away from his forehead even as his eyes ate up every bit of the younger man's face. Colton leaned into his touch with a quiet sigh, his eyes falling shut again. He couldn't hold the words down. “I missed you,” he whispered.  
  
There were a long few moments of hesitation before Phil sat up straight and tall again, letting his hands rest on his own thighs. “I know, kid.”  
  
Of all things, that hadn't been what Colton was expecting to hear. He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked. “...what does that mean?”  
  
“It means I know.” Phil stared down at him with bleary eyes, eyes that Colton both wondered at and understood.  
  
“Does it mean you...” He trailed off, looking toward the wall as he tried to sort through the exhausted thoughts in his mind. His brain wouldn't work. His mouth worked even less.  
  
Phil tilted his head. “Mean what?”  
  
“...does it mean you didn't-”  
  
A door opening downstairs. Phil whipped his head around before making to climb off of Colton.  
  
Colton couldn't help himself. He grabbed Phil's pantslegs and held him as secure as he could, even as Phil frowned down at him. “Don't-”  
  
“Not the time, Colt.” There wasn't any doing. Phil had strength and Colton had noodle arms. He wrenched free in a second and clambered off of the table. There was something incredibly casual about the way he brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt, the way he sauntered across the room like he hadn't just kissed Colton within an inch of his life. It was almost insulting. The silence reigned for a moment more, just long enough for them to hear a toilet flush, before Phil glanced over his shoulder and met his eyes again. “And, uh...if you wanna get me out of my pants, that's not the way to do it.”  
  
Joking. He was _joking_. Colton sat up with a scowl. “We need to talk.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that,” Phil shot back in a sharp whisper. “But not here. Not now. Tonight, at midnight, right? On the beach? Isn't that Elise's little nefarious plan?”  
  
“What, we're just supposed to...to go through today like...”  
  
“...like?” Phil murmured, brow cocked.  
  
Colton shook his head. “Nothing.”  
  
Phil stared at him. And then he looked over his shoulder. “...fine.” He sighed. “Look, stay up here, all right? Whoever that is never went back to bed, and I don't want them catching us-”  
  
“'Cuz God knows,” Colt hissed, “if we're up here _talking_ , we're totally _fucking_ , right?”  
  
“Will you shut the hell up?” Phil whirled around with gritted teeth. “ _Jesus_ , Colt!”  
  
He turned his eyes to the carpet and kept them there. He kept them there even when Phil walked to the staircase, even when he descended, even when he knew he was out of view.  
  
Funny how transparent Phil could be when he thought he was the exact opposite.  
  
Colt inhaled deeply as he slid his fingers through his hair. He should be asleep right now. But if he slept later than anyone else, people would question him. They'd be concerned. They'd give him hours of attention and drill him over and over again, until he ran out of answers, and then they'd press for more, until he had no choice but to snap and tell them the truth.  
  
He never thought he'd see the day when he turned out to be a liar. The day that the only way he'd stand head-and-shoulders above everyone else was physically.  
  
He wanted to talk to Schyler but he pushed that thought out of his mind just as fast. He wouldn't give it the attention it deserved, not today, not when he felt like he was a man walking to his own execution.  
  
So what was he supposed to do until midnight? Sit up here, be a good little boy twiddling his thumbs like Phil told him to? No. That was bullshit. That man didn't own him any more than anyone else did. He pulled his hands into loose fists of flannel before pushing off of the table and heading straight for the stairs.  
  
He flicked his eyes to Elise and Erika's door as he passed it while heading for the kitchen. Erika woke with the sun, just like he did. She'd probably be getting ready to make some breakfast, might even be confused as to why he wasn't down there helping her. He sped his steps a little. That's just what he needed, wasn't it, her worrying and being all maternal and-  
  
He jolted a step back at the sudden impact against something soft and small, and he fought to focus his eyes on the flash of blonde just before a sharp cry went through the air.  
  
“Oh Jesus, Hollie!” He had an armful of the petite girl before he even knew she was stumbling forward with a squeak. “I'm so sorry! Are you okay?”  
  
“I think I...” She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that premature worry lines popped up. “Oh, _bollocks_ ,” she hissed.  
  
The curse startled him. He looked over what he could see of her body desperately, looking for anything wrong. “Holls?”  
  
“I-I think I...Jesus, I rolled my ankle or something.” She gasped sharply as she drove her fingertips into his biceps. “God, I can't believe this-”  
  
“It's my fault-”  
  
“No, no, I-I've always had weak ankles. They just...do this from time to- urgh!”  
  
He tried to position them both, tried to loop her arm around his neck, but he forgot the almost foot-and-a-half height difference between them. He had to settle for locking it around his waist instead. “Lean into me, Hollie. Lean into me, lean into me, we're gonna walk to the couch, okay?” He was silently cursing his frame. If only he was strong enough to pick her up and carry her...  
  
“Okay, I'm...okay, let's just...”  
  
If only he didn't have arms the size of those stupid noodle floaties, if only they had some strength to them...  
  
“Bollocks!” The step went wrong, and Hollie collapsed back against the wall, and Colton was so damn distracted by his own stupid thoughts that he went right with her, barely caught himself with his free hand slamming into the wall beside her head. Hollie uttered a quiet, pathetic mewl as she touched her forehead to Colton's chest. “I'm sorry, Colt, sometimes I just need a minute to-”  
  
“Shh, shh, it's okay,” he whispered. The fact that she sounded so close to tears made him reach and touch her hair as he tried to smooth it comfortingly. “We've got all the time in the world. Breathe. Just tell me when you feel strong enough to try again, okay?”  
  
His hand pressed into the wall again, and Hollie lifted her damp eyes to stare straight into his. There was a strange look in her gaze that made him furrow his eyebrows, made him try to interpret it, but as the seconds ticked away and the air was filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing, he found he was still helpless to figure it out. All he felt was a strange buzz in his body that was making goosebumps come to attention.  
  
It took him even longer to realize that buzz came from being watched.  
  
He didn't know how long Phil had been there around the corner, staring at them, gobbling them up, but there was enough sharpness and anger in his eyes to tell Colt that he was not a happy camper.  
  
“Phil,” he whispered, and Hollie turned her head as well. “Give us a hand, will you? Can you carry her to the couch?” He knew what Phil was capable of holding, capable of lifting, capable of supporting-  
  
“What the hell happened?” Phil murmured as he crossed the floor, glancing down at Hollie's foot.  
  
“I rolled my ankle,” Hollie answered. “I'm sorry to trouble you-”  
  
“Ain't no trouble.” There was a strange coldness to Phil's words that kept both Colton and Hollie from saying anything more. He touched Colton's chest and gave a none-too-gentle shove to get him to back away before he gathered Hollie up in his arms like she wasn't more than a baby. “Ain't no trouble at all.”  
  
As doors began to open, as a concerned Skylar and Heejun and Erika poured out of their rooms to see what all the noise was about, Colton was left standing alone.  
  
  
~  
  
  
It was a sign, Elise thought, that as soon as she woke up, it began to rain.  
  
She'd woken up with the slam on her bedroom wall, of course, and she was right on Erika's heels when they both went to investigate, but where her roommate flew to Hollie's aid with the rest of them, Elise stopped in her doorframe and stared at Colton. There was something off about how he stood there, something in the utter blankness of his face. Colton wasn't a blank person. He changed expressions like valley girls changed accessories. If his face looked like _this_ , like a slate a sculptor had forgotten to shape...  
  
Elise wandered out to the hall and tentatively reached out to touch Colton's back, just brushing the small of it, but he didn't even flinch. “What happened?” she asked softly.  
  
“Rolled her ankle. I ran into her and made her step funny or something.” He shook his head. “I don't know.”  
  
His voice was dead too. Her heart fluttered in alarm. “Is it swollen?”  
  
“I don't know,” he said again, his voice even fainter.  
  
“Hold the phone!” they heard Heejun suddenly shout over the steadily growing panic. “I forgot! I'm an EMT! I can do this!” And then several negative cries that got lost in a buzz of shouts.  
  
“Something tells me they're going to the emergency room,” Elise murmured. “Especially before they let Heejun touch her.”  
  
Colton should have laughed. Instead he stiffened, rigid as a post.  
  
“...you okay?”  
  
“I can't go to the hospital,” he whispered. “I just...I can't.”  
  
What must be whirling through his head right now? How many variations of Schyler in surgery, Schyler hooked up to machines, Schyler as white as death? “Okay.”  
  
“I just _can't_.”  
  
“I know, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arm around his tiny waist, felt his breathing catching. “It's okay. Just breathe.”  
  
Skylar suddenly whipped around the corner, her eyes as wide as plates. “We're going to the ER. It's swelling up like a watermelon.” She waved her arm. “C'mon.”  
  
“Colton stays.”  
  
Skylar slowly furrowed her eyebrows as she stared straight into Elise's eyes, both confused and fiery. “I think Hollie would want-”  
  
“Colton. Stays.”  
  
“Elise,” Colton whispered, his hand squeezing her arm.  
  
“She doesn't own him,” Elise interrupted, shaking her head. “I don't care if she's the Queen of England, he's staying.”  
  
Skylar's jaw dropped. “Who the hell do you think you-”  
  
“Skylar!” Erika shouted. The group was moving as a unit to the front door, Hollie back in Phil's arms. “Leave it! We gotta go!”  
  
Elise held Skylar's gaze for a long, chilly moment before the younger girl set her jaw and left them. Then and only then did she look to Phil. He was staring at her with a frown. He shook his head, just dismissive enough for her to feel a soft stab, before he disappeared around the corner.  
  
The front door shut. The air grew thick.  
  
“You shouldn't have said that,” Colton murmured.  
  
“Well, she _doesn't_ own you, does she?” Elise snapped back. Colton tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip around his waist and began walking him to the living room. “I don't care how much she wants to get in your pants, that doesn't mean she can just drag you places that you don't need to go.”  
  
“She doesn't wanna get in my pants!” He finally shoved out of her hold with a scowl. “Not everybody's obsessed with sex, you know!”  
  
She decided she was going to ignore that last comment because he was unstable right now, and she knew how that felt all too well. Instead she walked. She left him standing in the doorframe. “Sit down, Colt.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because you look dead on your feet.” She collapsed on a couch cushion with a sharp sigh. “And I wanna know why.”  
  
He looked out the window. “No reason.”  
  
“Says the boy avoiding my eyes. C'mon, Colt. I know you better than you think.”  
  
His frown deepened, but he made his way to a chair. He perched on the edge, barely sitting at all, but his body collapsed so intensely that she knew he was barely keeping himself awake, probably through adrenaline alone.  
  
Elise absently tugged at one of her curls. “...when's the last time you slept?”  
  
“Night before last.”  
  
“Not last night?”  
  
“No.”  
  
She frowned. “What kept you up?”  
  
He hesitated. “...nothing special.”  
  
What the hell was up with this lying parade? Had she brought this on herself somehow? She looked down at the floor, studying her bare toes and how they squished into the carpet. “Is that the truth?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Does it matter?” was the quick reply.  
  
“Colton, of _course_ it matters. Why are you being like this?”  
  
“I just...” He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Why is it you're always trying to fix people? You tell us so little about yourself – don't think I haven't noticed – and then you expect us to tell you every single thing that's on our mind. Excuse me for saying this, but that's bull, Elise. It just is.”  
  
She blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been that. “...what do you want from me, Colt?”  
  
“I don't know.”  
  
“No, you want something, I know you do, so tell me what it is.”  
  
He sighed. “...tell me something you've never told me. Something you haven't told anybody else in this house.”  
  
The list of things she could talk about was probably far longer than it should be, especially when one of the girls in this house was one of her best friends. She didn't have to think for long, though. She knew exactly the kind of thing that Colton was demanding as a show of unconditional trust and respect. It took only a quiet breath to steady herself before she was as ready as she'd ever be to let it fly. “...I was almost engaged once.”  
  
There was a long moment before he let his hands drop and peeked out at her, eyebrows sharply furrowed. “...really?”  
  
“Mm.” She nodded. Fog was clearing from her mind. She was seeing faces she'd hoped never to think of again, not unless she had a half-empty wine glass in her hand. The wind blew outside, sprayed rain all over the picture window.  
  
Colton exhaled softly, a little gasp of surprise. “...when...when was this?”  
  
“When I was nineteen.” Nineteen. That age seemed so absurd now. She coughed out a quiet laugh. “God, that was so long ago.”  
  
“Not that long,” Colton murmured. It was an olive branch. Just a little sprig, barely enough to be an afterthought, but it was there. She met his eyes. She expected him to look away, but he held true. “Where'd you meet him?”  
  
Harder still. She forced herself to hold his gaze. “College. He was, uh...he was my professor.”  
  
Colton's eyes nearly swallowed his face. “Seriously?”  
  
She forced another laugh, but she couldn't pretend to be brave anymore. She looked out the window and tried to ignore the thrashing pain in her chest. “Yeah. My private voice instructor.”  
  
“That...that must've been weird.”  
  
It was impossible to put into words exactly how it felt to be stared at, to be judged, to be ripped apart by your fellow students behind your back. To have threats of a peer trial and expulsion hanging over your head. To be hit on by your slimy Music Theory teacher because apparently now you were fair game. To lose the most engrossing academic and artistic experience you'd ever had in your whole life and be transferred over to a ridiculous mockery of an instructor just because your heart got in the way. So she didn't try. She simply nodded. “It was, a little. But...it happened. And there it was.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
She pressed her lips together as she watched the waves thrash at the sand. Her palms were burning. It took her a long few moments of silence before she realized it was because she was stabbing herself with her nails.  
  
“...is that all?” Colton asked softly.  
  
She scoffed. “Of course that isn't all. I was just...trying to figure out how much else you need to hear. Because you wanted something I'd never told anyone here, right? Well, you've heard it. But are you satisfied, Colt? Or do you want it all? Every nitty gritty detail?”  
  
She could almost feel Colton's shame, released into the air like a mushroom's spores. It stuck to her skin. She absently traced a fist over her forearm, trying to shake them free. “...just one more thing.”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Why did it end?”  
  
She closed her eyes just for a brief moment, just long enough to see Donald Parker's face flash as brilliantly as thunder, before she caught her reflection in the window. Caught Colton's reflection. Caught how he was watching her so closely, leaning forward like a teenager poised to catch the best gossip around. He was young. He was so damn young. “...he was dying.”  
  
She saw the way Colton absorbed the words, how he leaned back slowly, his hands curling into loose fists on his knees.  
  
“Cancer. A brain tumor, actually. Inoperable.” She shook her head a little. “He was always having migraines, but we didn't...” That thought flitted out of her hands like a bird, taking the guilt with it before it could consume her. “...I'd been dating him for a year and a half. I loved him. I was half moved into his place, ready to spend my life with him, when we...got the diagnosis, and...well...” Her throat burned. She swallowed, warded it away. “I struggled with it for a long time. I really did. But ultimately I decided it wasn't worth it for me to marry a man who was going to die in six months. So I...left. Never looked back.”  
  
She watched Colton's reflection touch a fist to his lips, like he felt sick. She wanted him to say something. She wanted him to call her a selfish bitch and storm out of the room, but he didn't. He never once looked away from her.  
  
Her tongue felt swollen. It was like talking was the only thing that would bleed it back down. “I clipped out his obituary. I have it somewhere in my apartment, an old diary, maybe, but...I didn't even go to the funeral.” She pushed her hair out of her face. She crossed her legs at the ankle. She couldn't stop moving. “He only lasted two months. I always wondered if...if it wasn't the cancer that killed him.”  
  
“That's it, isn't it?” Colton whispered.  
  
Elise blinked. She turned her head, studied him from the corner of her eye. “What?”  
  
“That's it. That's...that's why you try to fix everyone.”  
  
She felt cold. She was hooked up to an IV of ice.  
  
“You fix us because...because you couldn't fix _him_.”  
  
It came fast, a tidal wave of sadness that tried to sweep her over, but she held strong. She countered with her own wave of anger, but this time she couldn't keep her footing. As she whirled on the couch to face him straight-on, she felt the wave tip her over. “Oh, that'd be nice and tidy, wouldn't it?” she asked softly, the words short and clipped. “It's not because I actually care about you guys and want to help you. It's out of just some misplaced sense of guilt, is that it? God, Colt, maybe you should've been a psychiatrist-”  
  
“Stop it, Elise.” He shook his head. But he didn't look angry. He looked like he pitied her. She couldn't handle it. “This isn't about me. This is about you.”  
  
When he reached a hand toward her she jolted to her feet and gritted her teeth. “No, _you_ stop it. You don't get to fix me. You don't get to make it all fit together like a pretty little package.”  
  
“Elise, please-”  
  
“I really _have_ been just a little experiment for you, haven't I?” she spat. “Have you just been taking notes this whole time? Figuring me out? Is that it?” He stood up too, holding out his hands like she had a gun, and goddammit, that just made her angrier. “Is that why I have to fuck every man I see? Huh? Is that it, Colt? Out of this ridiculous delusion that I'm fixing them? Is that why I'm the town whore?!”  
  
Colton shook his head. “I didn't know that-”  
  
“Is that why I can't fucking commit to _anything?!_ Why I can't even get this goddamn music out of me?! I'm _stuck_ , Colton! I'm stuck! I'm _drowning!_ ” She choked on something, and she touched a hand to her throat with a gasp. The room was blurring. She thought she might be fainting, but then she realized her cheeks were wet, that her breathing was catching over and over and over again. “I'm drowning,” she whispered faintly.  
  
As her legs gave out Colton swooped forward, wrapped his arms around her, caught her against his chest. She could feel his arms straining. She heard his own breathing grow a little more labored. But he pulled her against him, flush against his slender frame, and as she grabbed handfuls of his shirt she felt the tears pour out of her, felt them soak straight through his t-shirt. He lowered them both to the floor and leaned them against the couch, and she cried. She cried like she hadn't cried in ten years.  
  
“If you can't let go anywhere else,” she heard him whisper against her hair, “then by God, let go here.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not someone to throw around trigger warnings, but a quick warning to my readers that there is a lot of aggression, anger, and borderline manipulation in this chapter. Use caution.

He didn't know how long he held her, how long she cried. He only knew that neither of them spoke when it was over. She lay nestled against his chest, his t-shirt in her fists, and he settled for a methodical smoothing of her curls, slow and gentle. He didn't want to scare her. Hell, he didn't want to scare _himself_ , not while he was processing everything he'd heard.  
  
But, in a way, that felt like it needed to take a backseat. He felt like he was holding a wounded animal, something beautiful but dangerous, like a tiger. She was broken, more broken than he'd ever anticipated, and that meant she was prone to snapping at any moment. Something like that might not only hurt him, but her as well.  
  
She'd been hurt enough. He didn't want her to hurt ever again.  
  
“They'll come back soon,” she finally whispered.  
  
Colton pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “They'll be in the ER for hours. Her ankle's pretty low priority under a car accident or something.”  
  
She sighed. “I just have a feeling.”  
  
He found his eyes straying toward the entry hall against his better judgment, as if the door would swing open right at that second. Silence. Just as he expected. He had a feeling that Elise wasn't ready for company just yet, and he sure as hell knew he himself wasn't.  
  
“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked softly.  
  
She tightened her grip on him in response.  
  
“I didn't mean...out. I meant like...the couch?”  
  
Hesitation. Her fingers untangled just enough to relay acceptance.  
  
He coaxed her up to sit on the couch, and then to lay there, his spine against the back and her back against his chest. It was a tight fit, but that only gave him the excuse to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her tighter against him, to give her all the security he had in his body. He heard her sigh, felt her relax against him, and he closed his eyes against her hair.  
  
This is why they did it, he realized. This is why people told you to be friends with someone before you got involved romantically. Because then you already loved them. You already wanted to protect them. It was a natural progression to go just a little further when you loved them that deeply already.  
  
That thought made him think of the other person he wanted to protect more than anything, and that made his heart sink. “...Phil's mad at me,” he murmured through a dense sense of drowsiness.  
  
Elise was quiet. “...why?”  
  
He sighed. “I don't know. He just...he looked so angry when he was taking Hollie out to the car, and he...snapped at me this morning.”  
  
Even more quiet. The quiet was stretching out to such long spans of time that he was worrying she was falling asleep just like he was. “He's got a lot on his mind” was what finally came out. “Just give him time. Everything will come out tonight.”  
  
He didn't like how she worded that. He didn't like it one bit. But he was too tired to focus too much on it. Being here, having her warm against him like a blanket, it was a strange opposite of arousing. Instead, it was comforting. It was enough to make him lose focus on reality, to forget where they were, _what_ they were. It whispered for him to close his eyes, just for a little while.  
  
And then the thought came. “...how do you know?”  
  
The click of the front door. Elise jolted away from him, and Colton stayed behind, his sleepy hands feeling cold now that they weren't in contact with her. He'd barely come back to reality before Phil appeared in the doorframe, the front door slamming shut somewhere behind him.  
  
That was all it took to make Colton sit up, his eyes wide, because he'd never seen the man look more livid. Never. He looked like the ground was about to explode into lava right under his feet.  
  
“Cozy?” Phil asked, his voice low, his tone a mix between frankness and sarcasm.  
  
“Where is everyone?” Elise asked. Her voice was soft, too, but careful, tender, reaching out to a wounded animal.  
   
Phil flicked his eyes to Elise, but only for a moment, only for half a second before looking right back at Colton. There was a long moment of silence before he wandered into the adjoining kitchen, began to root through bottles. “They're at the ER. Apparently my being there was causing too much of a stir. They sent me back here.”  
  
“How's Hollie?” Colton asked now.  
  
Phil looked over his shoulder and lifted his eyebrows, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. “Hollie?”  
  
Something was off. He planted his feet firmly on the floor. “Hollie. Is it broken? Did she get seen yet?”  
  
He breathed out a chuckle and shook his head. “Why do you care so much?”  
  
“Why _don't_ you?” Elise countered.  
  
“Haven't you wondered, Elise?” Phil murmured. Eyes never moving. Just pinning Colton right there, right where he sat, like a butterfly collector with a brand new specimen, as he took a quick gulp of the whiskey straight from the bottle and winced as he swallowed. “Wondered why he cares so much? Why the two of them are so goddamn...cozy all the time?”  
  
There was quiet. It took Colton a moment to realize it was because now Elise was staring at him too, not at the man who was gulping down spirits at nine in the morning. He dug his fingers into the sofa cushion. “She's my friend,” he said.  
  
“Friend.” Phil made it sound like a joke, like Colton was just having one on the two of them.  
  
“Yes, _friend_.” There were several emotions churning up inside of him, fighting to see who'd come out on top. “Just a friend.”  
  
“Until you fuck her.”  
  
That was it. Anger won. Colton came to his feet slowly, carefully, his nostrils flaring as he took in a stabilizing gulp of air. “...I don't run around fucking my friends,” he muttered.  
  
“Oh?” Phil grinned, but there was a sickness to it, like watching a monkey flash his teeth just before he sprang on you from the trees. “Is that so? What's this, then?” He gestured in a triangle, from him to Elise to Colton. “What the hell are we? What the hell _were_ we?”  
  
“That's what we're supposed to figure out, isn't it?” he asked, taking a slow two steps forward. “Sounds like you've got a theory, huh? Can't keep it under wraps until midnight, can you?”  
  
“No, _fuck_ midnight.” Phil's index finger came out like a pistol, pointing right at Colton's chest. “Why don't we settle it right here, right now?”  
  
“Why don't we?” Colton spat back.  
  
There was movement, a whiff of lilacs, and then Elise was there, a hand on either of their chests. Her eyes were wide. She stared at them like she'd never seen them before. “Okay, that's enough.”  
  
“It's not enough until I say-”  
  
“That's _enough!_ ” Elise glared up at Phil. “Y'know, as much as this pissing contest is really turning me on, I have to say I was better off without it. And _you_ , you need to put the bottle-” But when she reached for it Phil held it out of her grasp, and she knew better than to fight him.  
  
Colton didn't look away from Phil. Phil didn't look away from Colton. But when Elise gently pushed, they both took a step back, and that was all it took to break the connection. Colton crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back, pacing away.  
  
There was a quiet intake of breath that he recognized intrinsically as Phil's, an audible swallow, and then the man spoke. “Can you blame a guy for asking? Every time I turn around you two're cuddling in a chair, getting all snug at the club, pressing up against each other by a wall-”  
  
“That's a load of crap,” Colton interrupted, “and you know it.”  
  
“Bullshit.” He literally spat the word. “I've seen the way she looks at you. You think I don't know what's going on?”  
  
“How do I look at her, Phil?”  
  
“Y'know, I don't give a shit what you do, but the least you could do is be up front and honest about how you feel-”  
  
“How do _I_ look at _her_ , Phil?”  
  
“ _Especially_ when you know there's something going on with the three of us that we can't ignore.”  
  
“The three of us.”  
  
“Yeah, the three of-”  
  
“I guess that's why you can just drag Elise to an alley and fuck her against a wall without me being there, huh, because I totally see how that involves the _three_ of us.”  
  
Silence. “...that's different.”  
  
Colton whirled around. “Different? How the hell is that /different?!/”  
  
“Because _she's_ part of _us!_ ” He jabbed his finger at Elise. “You think I give a fuck if she rides you on the beach while I'm hanging out with Heejun or something? I don't need to be there every time you wanna get your rocks off.”  
  
Colton wrinkled his brow.  
  
“Is that why you've been acting like this?” Phil asked. “'Cuz we did that?”  
  
“I...” Colton licked his lips.  
  
“Besides.” The men snapped their eyes to Elise when she softly spoke. “If I remember right, you were a little distracted at the club. Didn't even see us leave.”  
  
“Oh, not you too.”  
  
She shrugged.  
  
“What are you so jealous of?”  
  
“What are _you_ so jealous of?” Elise shot back.  
  
“Oh, come on.” He spread his arms. “You really have to ask? Isn't it obvious?”  
  
Phil and Elise looked at each other. They didn't have to talk. They just read each other's minds for the billionth time.  
  
“It's _that_ ,” Colton said softly as he gestured between them. “That...telepathy, that...the fact that you don't even have to say anything. The way you just _know_.” With every image that flashed through his mind, he felt his chest grow a little tighter. “The way you know every single thing to do to make each other feel good when you've only slept together three times, the way you make his coffee before he even knows he wants it, the way you hold the door open for her and nobody else, the way you both spin around a stage with each other singing like you've been doing it your whole fucking life, the way you two _fit_ together so there isn't a breath to _spare_ , are you _kidding_ me?! You have to ask what I'm jealous of?!”  
  
They were staring at him, he realized. Neither said a word. Neither moved.  
  
Something in his chest cracked with the pressure. “...how the hell is it that I don't have anything like that with either of you, that I don't have a single claim on you, but both of you own my body? How is that even possible?”  
  
Elise's face was mournful. She took a step forward and reached out slowly, tentatively. He let her. She gently squeezed his arm. “Colton...”  
  
“I can't compete with that,” he whispered. “I can't. I _know_ I can't,”  
  
“When have we ever asked you to compete with it?” she asked.  
  
He was about to collapse into her. He felt it. He was about to fall forward into her arms and let her hold him as he cried all over again. But as he shifted his eyes to look over Elise's shoulder, he saw Phil's face and the strangeness therein, how he was looking at him like he was a new species that he'd never seen before. Like he didn't understand him. Like even after Colton had already said his piece, there wasn't anything that had gotten through.  
  
He felt something inside of him recoil. Flinch. Hide. And he backed away from Elise, let her hand fall limply between them, and sucked in a sudden breath. “No. No, you ask me to compete with it every damn time I see you together,” he whispered. “I have to keep up. I can't stop a second or I fall behind.”  
  
“ _Colton_ ,” Elise pressed, reaching out again, but he flung his arms out in front of him in warning and she flinched back.  
  
“I'm already behind, though, aren't I?” His hands were shaking in front of him. He felt an absurd amount of paranoia rushing through him, poisoning him. He'd never felt this before, like he just wanted to throw himself out the back door and go running and running and running until he collapsed, until the two of them were nothing but distant memories. “I'm two years behind. And there's no way in hell I can catch up.”  
  
“Colton, please, listen to me.” Elise was trying to catch his attention through her words, but Colton's eyes were glued to Phil, to the way that the older man was slowly beginning to shake his head, flare his nostrils, curl his hands into fists. “You're seeing things that aren't there. You're trying to-”  
  
“Everyone sees it, Elise. _Everyone_.” Colton's throat was burning with tears. His head was swimming. “How many people talked about you both on the show? Why did you have to put so much distance between yourselves on the tour? Don't you remember? How people were so damn suspicious even then? No, it's there, and it's been there, and it'll always be there, and it's nothing I can be a part of.”  
  
Elise was talking again. “If there even _is_ something, I'm _asking_ you to be a part of it, Colton. I'm _begging_ you. We both are, aren't we, Phil?”  
  
But Phil wasn't talking. The bottle in his hand was starting to shake.  
  
Colton drew in a sharp breath, one that cleared his head, his eyes. “I'm not good with competition, Elise. You and I both know that. I got eliminated because I couldn't keep up with what everybody wanted. And maybe that means something. Maybe it's a sign.”  
  
He couldn't stay here. He couldn't look at Elise's confusion, Phil's fury. He had to get out. And so when Elise reached out one more time he sidestepped her and headed straight for the doorframe, for the hallway, for the chance to escape to the rec room all over again.  
  
He was halfway down the hallway before he heard the whiskey bottle slam down.  
  
  
~  
  
  
“Think about this, Phil.”  
  
Phil twisted his wrist slowly, breathing like a bull, grinding that damn whiskey bottle into the coffeetable.  
  
“I know what you want to do. But you need to breathe. You need to think.”  
  
He lifted his eyes gradually, until by the time he met Elise's eyes he felt like he'd been anticipating it forever. She looked sad. But not as sad as she should. “Were you listening to a thing he said?” he growled.  
  
She nodded. “I did. But he didn't mean it. You know he didn't. He's exhausted, Phil. He didn't sleep at all last night, and he thinks...”  
  
Phil cocked a brow.  
  
“...he thinks...you're mad at him, for some reason, and that's had him off all morning.” Elise reached out and touched his arm, where his very flesh felt like it was bubbling. It was the whiskey, he decided. The whiskey'd hit the anger in his blood and it'd all gone up in flames. “And last night he was already hurting, and...and he-”  
  
“He finally got time to think,” Phil whispered.  
  
Elise didn't speak again. She didn't have to. Phil had his answer.  
  
He shoved away from the coffeetable and headed toward the hallway.  
  
“Phil-”  
  
“Stay here, Elise.”  
  
“You don't need to be-”  
  
He threw her hand off of his arm when she touched him again. “Stay _here_.”  
  
This time she grabbed him by the sleeve, pulled with such force that he spiraled around and just barely caught himself before they were pressed against each other. “I'm not letting you do something stupid.”  
  
Silence. And then he grabbed her wrist and squeezed until her fingers let go. He leaned down just an inch or two, just enough to make her eyes widen, before he hissed out his words. “Stay. Here.” He dropped her wrist like it had burned him the second he saw a flicker of fear. “...if any of them show up...they don't need to get suspicious.”  
  
The clumsiest piece of shit he'd ever said. But he'd gotten through to her, apparently, because after only a breath of hesitation she nodded and backed away, rubbing at her wrist. She let him go only because she had to.  
  
There was no way in hell he was letting her see the play he was already rehearsing for upstairs.  
  
The walls were moving, he thought. Maybe he was just walking unsteadily. But he caught a glimpse of Colton's pajama pants disappearing around the corner of the staircase, vanishing like a turkey in the woods, and that gave him focus. Sometimes when you hunted and your prey left you, you waited. You camped. You knew if it didn't wander back, something else would. But there were days you saw the biggest buck you ever saw, something that'd feed your family for a month...and you couldn't let that get away. You pursued. You stalked. And when that moment came when he exposed his chest, you sent that bullet flying right through his heart, and you dragged the whole thing home before something bigger could take it away from you.  
  
That was what Phil thought of, with whiskey on his tongue and fire in his veins. It pushed him straight up those stairs, two at a time, that he'd climbed just a few hours before. But now kissing was the last thing on his mind. He didn't even _know_ his own mind right now. All he knew was that the second he caught a glimpse of the kid's blond hair, his tense shoulders, his punishing back, all conscious thought fled from his mind and he moved on instinct alone.  
  
“Go away,” Colton whispered.  
  
“You were pretty eager to talk down there.” Phil felt himself swagger more than walk across the floor, every step slow and carefully placed. “Changing your tune already?”  
  
He watched Colton's shoulders spread more, lift toward his jaw. “I don't want to talk anymore.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, maybe I do.”  
  
Colton slowly inhaled. “...always about you.”  
  
A flash of red. Phil gritted his teeth. “...maybe it's 'cuz I know better than you right now.”  
  
“That's what you said before, isn't it?” Colton turned his head slightly, just enough to study him from the corner of his eye. “That I didn't know what the hell I was talking about. Back when you started all this.”  
  
A laugh popped out of him before he even felt the dark humor bubble up inside of him. “Me? Oh no, boy. _You_ started it. You started it when you kissed me that night.”  
  
He flinched, twitched like Phil had hit him, turned his head to stare down at the table he was stabilizing himself on. “I was drunk that night. The next day you weren't.”  
  
“You kissed back.”  
  
“My first mistake,” Colton shot back.  
  
Energy coursed through him, sharp as if he'd stuck his finger in a light socket. Phil changed his steps. He let his legs lead him in a slow, wide berth around the table, where he could watch Colton's unmoving figure with every step he took. “That's it, huh?” His words were coming out strangely, he recognized, in a low, smooth tone he rarely ever used. Just dripping from his lips like honey. There was a certain sweetness to how Colton's hands curved into fists, how his eyes jolted around the tabletop. “A mistake. Just a mistake. Not even your fault. Something somebody else made you do when they forced your hand. Oh, that's _nice_ , Colt. That's real damn nice.”  
  
Colton's breath was speeding up. His slight chest heaved under his shirt with each desperate squeeze of his fists, each bulge of his biceps. He was spitting fear into the air. Phil inhaled, took every breath of it in, let it shoot through his every vein.  
  
“You ever sit back and wonder what alcohol does to a body, Colt? It unlocks you. Wakes you up. Coaxes out the parts of you nobody gets to see. The _truest_ parts. And that means you grabbed me first. Practically begged me to get down on that floor with you, to do everything to that girl that you couldn't do. But even _that_ wasn't enough, was it? No, you had to kiss me. You had to tell me every little thing you wanted with just one tiny liplock. Ain't that right?”  
  
“...I didn't...” Colton dipped his head until his chin touched his chest. “...I...”  
  
“Oh, you can dance around it, blame me all you want, but it don't matter how many lies you tell, 'cuz I was there for all of them.” He was in front of the table now, eyes never moving from his prey, looking for that chink in his armor. “I was there when you kissed me. I was there when you begged me not to leave you alone. And you know what else?” He touched his hands to the tabletop and leaned forward as he dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “I was there...when you came all over me after I sucked you off.”  
  
Colton's eyes flashed up, met his, and there was such a heavy combination of anger and fear that Phil felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward just a notch, just enough to acknowledge what he was seeing. Just enough to remind Colton that he'd just shown that chink.  
  
“The only time I wasn't there was when you gave it all up to Elise. But guess what? The whole reason she went after you? That was me. 'Cuz she was jealous I got to you first.” When Colton suddenly dropped his eyes back down to the table Phil began to circle again. “So I guess you could say...I sort of _was_ there. 'Cuz there's no way in hell she wasn't thinking of me the whole time she was fucking you.”  
  
The honey was poison now, and he couldn't stop it. It was pouring out of him, dripping all over the floor, sticking to every surface and releasing its toxic fumes into the air. But those fumes, they weren't hurting him. All they were doing was driving him. He was itching. He was buzzing. And he couldn't control it.  
  
“Stop trying to tell me it was all my fault. 'Cuz as far as I'm concerned, you wanted it.”  
  
“I didn't ask for this,” Colton said softly, watching Phil from the corner of his eye again. “I didn't ask for you to own me.”  
  
“You brought it on yourself,” Phil whispered. “And you enjoyed every damn minute of it.”  
  
Colton suddenly broke away from the table, began to circle it in the opposite direction of Phil, and Phil felt something inside of him perk up, felt like he should have a gun or a bow in his hand. “So it was all one big favor to me, huh? Just giving me what I asked for? Just doing an act of good will?” He narrowed his eyes, flicking them over Phil. “So what do you get for all your troubles?”  
  
Phil cocked an eyebrow. “You gotta ask? Simple. I get you.”  
  
“And what's that look like when we're out of here?” Tighter fists, closed right beside his slender hips. “You tie me up, stick me in your apartment, keep Elise next door?”  
  
Elise. Her sweet smile, her sweet perfume. He felt a strange faltering step of confusion before he pushed it aside, focused on the present, on the man he couldn't get away from, that he couldn't let get away from him. But there was something to Colton's words. It was the reminder of Betsy, of Jacob, of his band, of every single person down in the city that kept tabs on him. Of every single eye that'd figure out his entanglement with these two within a week. “...I don't know.”  
  
Colton was the one to bark out a laugh now, just the one, just a taste of disbelief. “You don't know. God, call the newspapers! Phil Phillips doesn't _know_ something!”  
  
Phil came to a jerky stop at the corner of the table and watched as Colton did the same directly opposite from him. “Watch it, Colt.”  
  
“You're not exactly in a position to order me around.” Colton was the one to lean forward this time, like a buck lowering his head to gore him with his horns. “You come up here, you spend the whole time berating me, manipulating me, spitting in my face about how I asked for every fucking second of pain and agony you've caused me, and now you wanna give orders? No thanks.”  
  
No, he didn't get to have that upper hand. Phil felt his heart thudding in his chest, pumping gallon after gallon of rage through his system. “Oh, is that all it was? Pain and agony? You didn't enjoy a damn second of it?” Phil grabbed the edges of the table as he leaned in, feeling the strain of his tendons as he tried to crush the metal between his fingers. “You didn't want it? You didn't wanna make something of it? You didn't _feel_ something when we had Elise pressed between us? You didn't wanna feel it again?!”  
  
Colton slammed his fist into the table. “I don't want another damn _second_ if it means I gotta put up with _you!_ ”  
  
He flipped the table, just like that, just like it was a piece of paper, but even when Colton tried to back away Phil was already there, his hands on Colton's face, holding him in place just an inch away from his lips. “You want it,” he breathed. “Oh, you want it. 'Cuz you feel this, whatever the hell it is. You feel the buzz. The ache. The need that can only be satisfied by me and her.” He felt Colton grit his teeth, felt his jaw flex out beneath his palms, but he didn't move, didn't let him get an inch. “You spat in the face of your God so you could have a taste of it. And now you can't get enough.”  
  
“I spat in His face because of what He did to Schyler,” Colton hissed back, his hands hovering between the two of them, like he knew that pushing away would just get himself hurt. “And you took advantage of that, you bastard. I lost everything, and you just-”  
  
“You think you're the only one to lose something that mattered to you?” Phil pressed harder, only stopping when he saw a flash of pain shoot through Colton's furious eyes. “You think you're the only one with people out there that you love?” And suddenly images were flashing through his mind, images of dark hair, dark eyes, a bright smile, a warm touch, a perfect waist that wore his flannel shirts perfectly, a delicate walk, a tinkering laugh, a feeling of absolute and utter completion every time they made love that took fucking _two_ people to replicate, more and more and more until he was going blind, until his vision was going red, until he was breathing harder than he had in his entire fucking _life_. “You think you're the only one to lose something good? To be punished?!” Phil jerked his arms, brought Colton in closer until their foreheads banged together and all he could see were Colton's dark eyes, so similar but so fucking not the same. “I'd give up _everything_ for you, you son of a bitch! I already _have!_ ”  
  
Silence, broken only by their breathing, by the rustling of cloth as Colton grabbed a hold of Phil's shirt, by the words resonating in his mind. _'She misses you. She loves you.'_  
  
“I gave up the only good thing in my life for you,” Phil whispered as his hands descended, grabbed Colton by the hips and suddenly spun him around. “The only fucking good thing-”  
  
Colton sucked in a sharp breath when Phil pressed their hips together, pressed his soft crotch to the curve of his ass. “Don't you dare-”  
  
“-and there's no way in _hell_ I'm letting you go now.”  
  
“Get your hands off-!”  
  
He felt frustration, anger, at how he wasn't even the slightest bit aroused, at how his body was on autopilot, at how when he curved his neck around to breathe words into Colton's ear that he couldn't stop himself even as the first quiet protests lifted from beneath the haze of the whiskey. “Don't fight this, kid, don't fucking fight this.”  
  
Colton tensed. He exhaled. And then he whirled around, grabbed Phil's collar, and slammed his fist straight through his jaw.  
  
He was on his hands and knees when a panting Colton squatted down, his eyes on fire, his jaw tight. “...I knew it from the start,” he muttered. “How every single fucking second of this has all been about power. And I'm sick of it, Phil. I'm sick to _death_ of it.”  
  
Phil was shaking. He lifted a hand and touched his jaw, winced and sucked in a breath at the pain. “Don't do it, Colt.”  
  
“No, _fuck_ you!” he hissed. “I'm not your little _bitch!_ I'm not your fucking puppet! And I'm sure as hell not some _kid_ you can play with!” Colton shook his head. “I don't care how much you lost. I don't care that you don't have a single thing you can actually say that you own and control, because I'm not gonna be that thing. Because it's over. I'm done.”  
  
“Colton...”  
  
“It's _over_.” He stood up, shaking out his fist, rubbing at his knuckles with his free hand. And then he walked out of the room, out of sight, out of earshot.  
  
Phil stayed where he was kneeling, staring right where Colton had been only moments before. It didn't seem human that the kid could move so fast. He flicked his eyes down to the carpet, thinking he could still see the impressions of Colton's feet, that if he looked hard enough Colton might still be there.  
  
A strange sound choked out of Phil, and he touched his throat in surprise. The carpet was blurring. What the hell was going on? He looked around for help, but there was none to be found.  
  
No. No, he wasn't coming back to help. He wasn't coming back at _all_ , was he?  
  
The haze failed him. Every ounce of the whiskey cleared out then, right then, letting him surface alone and desperate, drawing a long, shuddering sigh out of him. He ducked his head until his chin touched his chest. Little dark circles speckled across the carpet where his tears fell.


	29. Chapter 29

Pacing. Pacing pacing pacing. Contain yourself. Restrain yourself. Do what he says. Don't even _think_ about going near those stairs.  
  
Elise walked back and forth, burning a path in the carpet, her fist pressed to her mouth as she tried not to think about the sounds she was hearing upstairs. The footsteps. The shouts. The words she couldn't make out. And finally the thud, the crash that had her so scared she fell back against the wall and stared at the ceiling with huge eyes. She didn't know what the hell was going on, and she wouldn't even let herself begin to imagine.  
  
She wasn't a hero. She wasn't courageous. She wasn't a leader. She was just a stubborn woman, one that did whatever the hell she was told by the man that owned part of her soul.  
  
She waited for screams. For cries of help. Then and only then, she told herself, would she rip herself away, would she charge toward those stairs to help...to help _who?_ She didn't know. She didn't fucking know anymore.  
  
Her eyes darted to the bottle of whiskey, and she felt such a strong urge to pick it up, to hurl it out the window, that she'd taken a step or two toward it before her heart stopped in her chest. And then she became aware of the silence. The all-encompassing, horrifying silence that made her heart kick into double-time.  
  
And then the creaking of the stairs.  
  
Elise flung herself at the hallway and caught herself on the doorframe as she waited breathlessly to see who was coming down. A lithe figure emerged and her entire body sagged with relief when she realized he wasn't any worse for wear, that whatever that crash had been hadn't bruised him or taken him out at the knee. But he didn't even look at her. He stormed straight to his bedroom, and then she heard the sound of something unzipping.  
  
She waited another long few seconds for Phil. And then she realized she didn't hear a single bit of movement upstairs.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat as she flew down the hallway, and it was almost an afterthought that had her stopping at Colton's bedroom, looking inside. He was packing. He had his suitcase on his bed and he was stuffing things inside haphazardly, abandoning the order and neatness that she'd come to associate with him so closely.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked, almost embarrassed at how breathless her words were.  
  
He didn't answer. Kept balling up dirty clothes and jamming them into the little crevices of the suitcase, each snap of his arm like a punch.  
  
She tried another tactic. “Are you okay?”  
  
Colton huffed. “I'm just dandy, Elise, didn't you notice?”  
  
She snapped her head to look at the stairs again, just in case she'd missed Phil's footfalls, before looking back. “What happened?”  
  
“It doesn't matter.” He crossed the room to the chest of drawers, opened one, and froze. He slammed the drawer shut again and went to the next one, where he started pulling out his folded clothes. “Not one bit.”  
  
She wanted to come into the bedroom, but she couldn't. She didn't want to be farther away from the stairs than she had to. “...are you...are you leaving?”  
  
“I'm getting the hell out of here.” The clothes fell in a shower into the suitcase, and he pressed until they were level. “I never should've come.”  
  
No. _No._ “But what about-”  
  
“Us? Which us? You and me? You, me, and Phil? There is no _us,_ Elise.”  
  
“Don't say that-”  
  
“Don't tell me what I can and can't say,” he snapped, glaring at her. “Don't you dare.”  
  
“I didn't mean...that. I-I'm sorry, I just...” She shook her head, and once she started she realized the rest of her was shaking too, shaking like an earthquake. “Tell me what happened. Please.”  
  
“I took my life back.”  
  
She didn't understand. “What are you talking about? Your life's always been-”  
  
He slammed a shoe into the suitcase, the sharp sound cutting off her words. “For the past...” He leaned into the stack, hung his head, closed his eyes. “...Jesus, it's only been five days since...” And then he shivered, shoved away from the suitcase, went looking for the shoe's mate. “For the past five days, I haven't been in control of my life. You know that.”  
  
She still didn't understand, but there was a strange clawing right at the base of her stomach, like there was a creature trying to escape. She touched her hand there to try to calm it. “But I didn't...”  
  
“Not you, Elise. Him. Phil. He...” He found the shoe and threw it at his suitcase. “ _He_ did this. He took me over. I couldn't stop thinking about him, about you, about... _us_ , and I...I would've done anything he asked. Hell, I already did.” He brushed past Elise as he went to the hallway but he stopped right in the doorframe and stared at the staircase with a look of tentative fear. It took a long moment before he could make himself cross the hall to the bathroom.  
  
He was leaving. He was really leaving. If the clothes didn't convince her, the sound of him gathering his toiletries did. She had a sudden urge to grab his clothes, to put them back in the chest of drawers, because maybe that would make him stay.  
  
He was back in seconds. The toothbrush and toothpaste in his hands were all he had left to pack. An alarm rang in her head. “Don't go, Colton.”  
  
“I have to.” He didn't look at her. Brushed past her again to put them up.  
  
She didn't like that. She grabbed his arm, wrapped her hand clean around his wrist, and looked at him pleadingly. “ _Colton_.”  
  
He stiffened like a statue, but her patience and sensitivity were buried in desperation right now. “I can't stay here, Elise. I can't. It's nothing you did – God, you're the only one that made me feel safe while I was here – but I have to leave before...” His voice cracked on the last word. It was the sound that made Elise let his wrist go in surprise. “I have to go. I never should've come.”  
  
“Don't write this off like that,” she whispered. “Don't write _me_ off.”  
  
He shook his head. “What we had, when we...Elise, that was beautiful. It was _incredible_. And I don't regret it. Okay? But I can't stay.” And then he seemed to have a thought. He spun and met her eyes for the first time, grabbed her elbows and squeezed them. “Come with me. Just come with me. Get away from him. He's not safe, he's _broken_ , he's...”  
  
“I know,” she whispered. “I do. I know better than you ever will.” She squeezed his arms back, held his gaze as firmly as she could, because if he looked away she didn't know if she'd ever see him again. “But I can't. I have to stay. You know that.”  
  
She saw something break there, right in his eyes, and when he sucked in a shaky breath she almost broke too. “You can't fix him.” His voice was trembling. “You can't. Neither of us can. Only he can fix himself, and we'll just get in the way, I promise we will.”  
  
She shook her head. “No, Colt. I can do something. I know I can.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Don't you see how I helped you? How _we_ helped you? You would've done something stupid without us there. I know you would've.”  
  
She registered his changing expression in stages. The tears cleared. His eyebrows lowered. And he began to frown. “What do you mean?”  
  
This time it was her turn to draw in the shaky breath. But she wasn't crying. No, she was trying to give herself strength to say what she should've said days before. "You asked once if I planned this. If _we_ planned this. And I guess really...I did. Because I knew if I ever gave you more than a night to sit there and think about what you'd done, what you'd become, you'd curl into yourself and hate yourself and never come out again. You needed a distraction, a...” She swore she could feel the temperature of the room suddenly plunge as Colton stared at her, his face twisting in horror. “I wanted to help you," she said, leaning toward him to try to show him her sincerity, but all it did was make him push her away and take a step back.  
  
"You...I can't believe you."  
  
No, shit, no, _no_. "Everything I did, I did for your own good."  
  
"No, you did it because you thought you knew better, didn't you?" he spat.  
  
"Phil and I were _scared_. You weren't being yourself. You were...somebody had to shake you out of it."  
  
“Are you _kidding_ me?” He covered his mouth with his hands as he walked a few steps away from her, his shoulders shaking in anger. And then he spun around to face her, to rake his eyes over her like red hot coals. "You know what's funny? You don't know who I am.”  
  
“Colt-”  
  
“No, really, you _don't_. All you saw was that stupid little cross I wore, didn't you? But did you ever try to get to know the me beneath it?"  
  
"I don't think even _you_ knew who you were beneath your faith,” she whispered. “Hell, you still might not."  
  
"I know myself more than you ever will!" he shouted, his voice breaking, his hands curled into sharp fists and his shoulders spreading and his form suddenly more intimidating than she'd ever seen before. “Because you...you don't know how to change your view of somebody after you've already made it. That's it, isn't it? You just thought you knew me, and the second I changed you just tried to put me back the way I was, not figure out who I was becoming! Not figure out that maybe I had a _reason_ for changing in the first place! How _dare_ you!”  
  
“Colton, _please!_ ” she cried.  
  
“I thought you were better than that. I really did. God, I'm an idiot.” He brushed past her again, went to zipping up his suitcase, and she shrank back as he heaved it into his hands. “Your boyfriend probably has a broken jaw,” he snapped. “You'd better go fix it.” And then he was gone.  
  
She stared. And then, when the front door clicked shut, she closed her eyes as tightly as she could, squeezing tears from them.  
  
It took what felt like an eternity before she could whisper to her muscles, coax them into moving, remind them that they still had a job to do before they could collapse. At first her steps were slow. And then her heart took off with her feet as she went for the stairs. There was an awareness setting in, reminding her that she hadn't heard a single sound from upstairs. And the way Colton had stared at the flight with that strange sort of fear, it could almost be interpreted as being toward his own actions. She thundered up the stairs as fast as she could and came to a skidding stop right at the top.  
  
Phil. Phil on his hands and knees, his head ducked, his shoulders going through one quick shudder. She'd never seen him like this, in such a state of vulnerability. Something told her she never would again.  
  
She knelt beside him, her hands hovering in uncertainty. And then she placed one against the small of his back, and every breath of weakness vanished.  
  
“Don't touch me,” he growled, rearing back away from her. His cheeks were damp, coated with tear tracks, but his teeth were bared in a growl, like he was going to rip out her jugular. But God, the temptation, the _need_ , to lean over and brush her lips against the red, swollen area of his jaw, to make it better, was almost impossible to resist. It didn't matter how threatening he looked right now. She'd throw herself into a pit of knives as long as he himself was safe. “Just...just don't-”  
  
“Okay,” she whispered. She forced herself to back away on her knees, to put a ridiculous amount of distance between them even though it was splitting her apart.  
  
Phil took deep, ragged breaths, in and out, in and out, each one through his nose, each one louder than the one before. He was trying so hard, _so damn hard_ , not to cry again, she could see that, but she honestly didn't know if he could manage it or not. And then he finally thrashed, slammed both fists into the floor with a raging shout, but even then Elise stayed still. She didn't even flinch. “He _left_ , Elise, he...” He covered his eyes with his fists. “He fucking...goddammit!”  
  
“I know. I know, sweetheart,” Elise whispered again, her words shaky and unstable.  
  
“He's not...he's not coming back, is he?”  
  
She shook her head slowly, tears filling her eyes.  
  
He crumpled again. Fell face-first into the carpet, where he curled into a loose ball, a pathetic lump.  
  
Elise crawled toward him. Her cells were pulling her. Her very marrow was keening like a wolf to be close to him, to brush her hand through his hair, to take away every damn ounce of pain he was enduring. This time when she touched him he hesitated only a moment before throwing himself into her arms.  
  
The force of it almost knocked her to the ground, but she held true, held him so tightly that she wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't breathe. He didn't cry, but he shuddered. God, how he shuddered. Like a child. Like he was enduring the worst nightmare he'd ever imagined.  
  
Everything inside Elise broke right then, and she pressed kiss after kiss to his head, his brow, even his eyelids, as tears poured down her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry.”  
  
“He can't be gone, Elise, he _can't_.” Phil's voice was choked, a little high-pitched in panic. “I gave him _everything_. How can he leave?”  
  
“I don't know,” she tried.  
  
“We have to get him back. We _have_ to.”  
  
“We can't.” She shook her head, pressing Phil's head to her chest, gently rocking him back and forth. “He's gone, Phil.” If there was even some chance of Colton coming back to them, Elise knew she'd burned that bridge with her good intentions. “But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not. I'm here.”  
  
Phil's fingers tightened around her shirt, pulled fistfuls of cotton into his hands, as he clung to her.  
  
There was a sweetness to it that made something inside of her explode like a supernova, casting a faint glimmer of light in the cesspool of broken darkness masquerading as her soul. She touched her quivering lips to his temple and formed one last whisper. “I love you.”  
  
One moment, Phil was shaking in her arms. The next, he was deathly still.  
  
“I _love_ you, Phil,” Elise pressed, lifting a hand to tangle her fingers gently in his hair.  
  
There was a long moment of silence. And then he pulled back, lifting his head to look her in the eye. His brow was wrinkled. His lips were parted. And in those unfathomable eyes of his, there were so many shades of meaning that it made her dizzy just trying to pick them apart. “...what?”  
  
She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment, just a moment, before she sucked in a damp breath. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”  
  
He pulled back a little more, and every muscle in her body ached in confusion, in pain, as it tried to sort out why. He grasped her elbows when she reached for him, held her at bay. And then he began to shake his head. “Don't do this to me, Elise.”  
  
What?  
  
“Don't...don't do this when I just...when _he_ just...”  
  
What was he...?  
  
Phil backed an inch or two away from her on his hands and feet before he ran into the fallen table and stopped with a jolt. But he wouldn't look away from her. Maybe he couldn't. “You can't...you can't just...”  
  
She didn't understand. She reached again. “Phil?”  
  
“You can't just _say_ something like that!” he suddenly bellowed, the words echoing around the room like hammers on metal. “You can't just say something like that when he just fucking broke both our hearts!”  
  
Elise recoiled, felt like she'd just been punched in the stomach. “What?”  
  
“ _Colton_ , he just walked out on me, on _us_ , and I...and _you_...”  
  
No, she had to keep trying to get through. She _had_ to. “Phil, the only thing that would break my heart-”  
  
“Don't say it-”  
  
“-is if-”  
  
“Don't fucking _say it!_ ”  
  
“-if _you_ left instead!”  
  
“God _dammit!_ ” Phil lashed out again and the air rang with his fist striking the table behind him, with how he sent it flying all over again. He shoved himself to his feet and dragged his hands through his hair with a shout, a deep and primal scream ripped from the depths of him. And then silence. A deafening silence that was broken only by the pounding of Elise's heart. And then he lifted his head, stabbed her with his gaze, and anything good and happy that might have been left inside of her froze in fear. “...you did this, didn't you?”  
  
She mouthed words, but she couldn't give voice to them.  
  
“You...you could've stopped him. Down there.” He pointed at the floor as he began slow steps toward her. “But you didn't. You didn't because you...you _love_ me.” He made the word a mockery. A jester's toy. “And because you wanted me all for yourself. Isn't that what happened?”  
  
She shook her head. “No, I-”  
  
His fingers curved into claws. “I should beat the shit out of you right now,” he breathed.  
  
She came up on her knees when he reached her, touched her hands to his hips as she stared up at him with wide eyes. “Please, Phil, that's not-” A cry as he grabbed a handful of her hair, wrenched her head just a centimeter closer to his hips...and then the slow, steady shaking of his hand. She didn't speak. Just held his eyes desperately as the grip on her hair turned painful.  
  
The wall of ice over his eyes began to melt. And suddenly his face was twisting into a grimace as tears filled his gaze. “...why the hell do people fall in love with me?” he hissed as he shoved her away. He left her there, lying on the floor, as he took to the stairs. Off to drown in himself where no one could help him. Again. Elise touched her forehead to her arms and sobbed.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
It happened in stages.  
  
The numbness set in as soon as he left the beach house. Colton took his time with tossing his suitcase into the Jeep. He was slow as he shut the trunk. He sagged for a moment against the driver's door. But no matter how much time he took, somehow he knew that Elise wasn't coming after him. He waited behind the wheel until he saw a whirl of blonde curls shoot past the upstairs window, until he knew she'd made her final choice, and then he turned the key and pulled out.  
  
That same numbness continued as he drove. Hours passed. He stopped for gas at some point and bought a Starbucks coffee in a can that he knew he wouldn't drink. As he filled his tank he began to hear a droning in his head, a nervous whisper that he couldn't yet articulate, and he reached instinctively for his iPod. He had to drown it out before it became understandable.  
  
He wasn't sure what his fumbling fingers chose initially, but when the sounds of Paramore filled his car he decided he'd done something right for once.  
  
The driving went on monotonously, with only the occasional chirp of Siri reminding him to stay true to his Interstate route keeping him company. The music faded into the background. And then the anger began to stir.  
  
It was in the memories he had, tinged with red around the edges. The whispered words he hadn't heard when Phil took Elise by storm that first drunken night. How they'd met eyes over his bleary head and stared for an eternity, just transmitting their damn telepathy, the night he'd given everything to them. That swagger Phil had just a few hours ago that he might have found sexy if there hadn't been murder in his eyes, murder that he'd never flashed at her.  
  
Why was it so easy to realize you were on the outside looking in after it was over, but impossible to see when you were in the thick of it?  
  
The anger worked with the numb stone his heart had become, until the heat cooled and made it feel more solid than any other metal in existence. He would stay this way, he decided, so he never felt again.  
  
And then a low cello began to play, and he realized his iPod had shuffled right into Lifehouse's “Everything.”  
  
Colton snapped his hand out for the iPod, right where he'd tucked it behind his passenger sunshade, but his fingers tangled in the wire attaching it to his cigarette lighter. The music player went flying down into the floorboard. He couldn't reach it. Panic swelled inside of him.  
  
 _“Find me here...speak to me...”_  
  
He grabbed the wire, but he met resistance. A glance told him the iPod was snagged somewhere under the seat, that there was no way it was coming out. He pulled harder, but it stayed true, stayed plugged in no matter how much he fought, and his heart began to pound.  
  
 _“...I want to feel You...I need to hear You...”_  
  
He reached blindly for the cigarette lighter, trying to get a good grip to unplug the thing, but God, it wasn't budging, and the stupid Starbucks drink he'd bought in the cup holder was blocking the button he needed to press to get the thing to give up the fight.  
  
 _“You are the light...that's leading me...”_  
  
He picked up the can. He hurled it at the floor. And just as it sprang a leak and started pouring all over the carpet, just as he was finally getting his fingers locked around that little adapter, he heard a sharp and sudden blare of a horn and he twisted his steering wheel on instinct.  
  
 _“...to the place...where I find peace...again...”_  
  
He didn't hit the guy whose lane he'd been swerving into. Didn't even come close. But at that point, he just gave up. As his eyes filled with tears he drove off the Interstate, drove right onto the shoulder, and parked the car.  
  
“What do you want?” Colton whispered.  
  
Music. Just the music. _“You are the strength...that keeps me walking...”_  
  
“Goddammit, don't tease me like this,” he rasped. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel.  
  
 _“You are the hope...that keeps me trusting...”_  
  
“This isn't...accident. I get that.”  
  
 _“You are the life...to my soul...”_  
  
His breath was catching. “It's a sign. Fine. I accept that. But a sign for what?”  
  
 _“You are my purpose...You're everything...”_  
  
He banged his fist on the wheel, threw his head back to scream. “Why won't You just fucking talk to me?!”  
  
 _”And how can I stand here with You and not be moved by You?”_  
  
He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't give Him that.  
  
 _”Would You tell me how could it be any better than this?”_  
  
He wouldn't give Him that vulnerability, not when He...  
  
Not when He...  
  
...not when that was all He asked for.  
  
Colton tightened his fingers around the wheel and sucked in quick, ragged breaths through his nose. He leaned until he touched his forehead to the wheel. “...please...I just want You to say something.”  
  
First, there was just the music. And then it was as if a frozen pond began to thaw in his head. He felt tension begin leaking out of his shoulders, felt his lungs expand a little easier. And even though there were no words, he felt Him there.  
  
It was instinct that had Colton drop his hand into his lap, turn his hand so his palm faced the sky. It was a game he used to play with God, an offer, a request for Him to hold his hand. It didn't matter that he never felt the physical touch. He could swear he always felt his Father smile just from the invitation. And as angry as he was, he wanted that right now. He wanted it so very badly.  
  
“I did it wrong,” he whispered. He closed his eyes, felt his eyelashes catch on the wheel for just a moment. “I did everything wrong.”  
  
It was there. An energy. A thrumming in the air. It was a feeling, thick and heady, that swelled in his mind, that built up a strange pressure before finally deflating again. And then, slowly, Colton began to try to translate the sensation into words. _...what do you want Me to say? Yes? No? Nothing I say would change your thoughts._  
  
Colton gasped. There was a sharp sting of excitement, a thrill of ecstasy, that was just as quickly shadowed by his own thoughts, by a blanket of disgust and agony. “I did it wrong, didn't I?” he asked. His words were coming quickly now. He didn't want to give up this moment when he had so many freaking things to say. “I knew I did. I just _knew_ it.” Acid choked him. “Why the hell did You let me do it? Why didn't You stop me?”  
  
Sympathy. A little tingle along his shoulders, barely noticeable, like they were being brushed by an invisible hand.  
  
“You told me You'd never leave me nor forsake me. Remember that? Any of it ring a bell?” His voice was getting louder, until he was talking over the music instead of under it. “Well, You did. You left me high and dry.”  
  
More sensation. More translation. _I didn't leave._  
  
“You did! You left! You weren't...weren't _there_ anymore!”  
  
 _I was there._  
  
“Then why didn't You talk to me?!” he cried.  
  
 _You weren't listening._  
  
Colton scoffed. He shook his head. “That's bull.”  
  
 _Nothing I could have said would have helped you where you were. Not a word. Don't you think I know that?_  
  
He looked away, down at his lap, like there was something to be seen in the passenger seat that he had to hide from. “You could've at least _tried_.”  
  
For a time, there was silence. He felt a stir of anxiety at it. It was a reminder that tension got him nowhere. He took a few deep breaths, kept his eyes closed, focused on the sway of the cello and the rocking of his car as vehicles flew past. And then the tentative translation began once more. _If I had told you what you wanted to hear, you would've only taken it as a sign to isolate yourself further. To hide from those you love in favor of Me._  
  
Colton wrinkled his brow. “Isn't that...what I'm supposed to do?”  
  
He could swear he almost felt a little smile. _You are all made in My image. Remember? You are social creatures, just as I am. Your friends can give you something that I cannot._  
  
“...what?”  
  
 _Touch. Tears. A shoulder to bump against in a hospital waiting room. Things that you are not able to experience from Me as you are._  
  
No. No, that didn't make sense. People didn't talk like that back home, back at church. God gave you everything. He WAS your everything. What was the point of humanity when you had your God, when you were supposed to set yourself apart from them? He shook his head. “I-I don't understand.”  
  
 _I created them for a reason. I led you to them for a reason. And, when you distanced yourself from them, I was silent to drive you back. To make you stop running from Elise, from your mother, from Schyler, from ALL of them._  
  
It didn't make sense with what he had been taught. But at the base of it there was a truth, a feeling of absolute concrete, so strong that he couldn't find a way to fight it. To disprove it. To logically dismantle it. He exhaled slowly, trying to clear his head, trying to find a way to do so and ultimately losing. “...and...and I failed.”  
  
 _You fought._ Now there was definitely a smile, a feeling of genuine warmth, like the sun itself was brushing the bangs back from his forehead. _You wouldn't be my David if you hadn't._  
  
Colton smiled sadly. He was fond of David. He always had been, from his earliest days of reading the Bible, of Sunday School and paper characters pressed to felt boards. But there were things about him that made the metaphor a little cold to the touch right now. “Not even David was perfect,” he murmured.  
  
A little chuckle in his head, a strange combination between Colton's own and Mufasa's. The sound should have been silly, maybe even ridiculous, but Colton couldn't make himself laugh, not yet. _You are not perfect, my young overachiever. You can never be perfect, not here, not in this life._  
  
“He killed a man to have the guy's wife,” Colton reminded God.  
  
 _And you were in Phil's arms not even twenty-four hours after his relationship ended._  
  
All humor trickled away. Colton's smile smoothed down into neutrality again, because he didn't have the energy to frown, not anymore. “...so I'm a pile of shit just like David was. Is that what You're saying?”  
  
He half-expected to feel some kind of chastisement for the curse from the God figure in his head, from Whoever happened to be guiding his thoughts into words from feelings, but there was nothing. Just the same forward movement, the same feeling of urgency. _David did terrible things. But he was also a man after My own heart. He had lusts, but he repented of them every time that they controlled him and constantly endeavored to do better. He had courage, and he used it unapologetically. He could reach out and touch Me in a time when I was nothing but a breeze behind a curtain. Would you have that be something that upsets you in this day and age, being compared to him?_  
  
Colton felt unexpected tears welling up behind his eyelids again. He curled his arms one over the other and rested his head on his wrists. “...what do I do now, Father? What would You have me do?”  
  
A tsk. _No no. None of that. No flowery words. No waiting breathlessly for commands. That has never been how it is between us. What does your HEART say?_  
  
He shook his head, words quietly choked. “I'm afraid to trust it.”  
  
 _I'm there. I wouldn't let you make a catastrophically wrong decision that you cannot recover from._  
  
“Even sleeping with my two best friends?” Minutes ago he would've been bitter as he said this, but he wasn't now. Merely exhausted. Merely hurting. “Giving them everything and letting them break me?”  
  
 _Tell me what your heart says, son._  
  
The simplicity, the directness, of that statement made something inside of Colton recoil. Because he knew exactly what that heart of his was whispering. “...I can't.”  
  
 _Tell me._  
  
“I can't go home,” he choked.  
  
 _Why?_  
  
“I'm not strong enough.”  
  
 _But I am._  
  
Colton's fingers curled into fists as he breathed out a wet sob. He wanted to strike his steering wheel, but he didn't have the energy to do more than just tap it.  
  
 _Don't turn from Me this time, son. My heart can't take it. Let your courage guide you._  
  
“But she'll _know,_ ” Colton whispered. “Schyler will know everything. She always does. I won't be able to keep it quiet around her.”  
  
 _Then you'll have to trust her too, won't you?_  
  
He let his hand shoot out again, grasped at the empty air in the passenger seat with desperation. “Father...”  
  
 _You know what your heart is telling you._ The sensation in his mind faded out, though the car felt full to capacity with a presence, _His_ presence. But before his mind cleared and left him to his tears, he heard two last words. _Follow it._


	30. Chapter 30

There were things that he didn't want to consider. Thoughts, for one. Phil decided he would actually be just fine if maybe he never thought again. Alcohol, for another. The first thing he did when he flew downstairs was walk into the living room, pick up the bottle of whiskey, and shoulder his way out onto the deck. He felt a little after-school-special, the way he pulled off the cover and poured the whole damn thing into the sand, but he couldn't leave it there, couldn't let it exist, not when at any moment he could feel that itch, that vortex that opened up and sucked him in, that feeling of being dropped in the middle of an ocean and commanded not to swim. That _thirst_. He'd be a sitting duck, and he wasn't risking it again.  
  
He didn't want to consider the long hair glittering on his shirt either, the one he plucked up and then dropped like a flame when he realized it was blonde. Nor the way he was standing in the wind one second and in Colton's door the next, his fingers tightening around the frame until they should have fallen off. One of the drawers on the dresser was crooked, slightly ajar, and Phil drifted toward it. He brushed his fingertips along the handle, the softest touch he had, before catching sight of a flash of grey inside.  
  
His heart stopped. He pulled out the soft grey t-shirt, the one he'd worn the night everything went into perfect alignment and exploded into sunbursts, the one he'd forgotten when he tiptoed back to his bedroom. Here. Stolen. Abandoned.  
  
Something made him pick it up. Something else made him bring it to his face.  
  
It was faint, but he caught it. Three things, all mingling together. Colton's hairspray. Colton's deodorant. Colton's soap.  
  
He'd worn this. If only for a brief time, if only to sleep in, he'd worn it.  
  
It was incredible, the joint sensations that could take over the body. One half of him wanted to bury his face in it. The other wanted to drop it and never touch it again. But he couldn't do either. He couldn't risk anyone finding it in here, and he knew that his body would explode into a thousand pieces if he breathed in the smell of him for very long. It would make him lose his concentration. And every ounce of that was already needed just to hold him together.  
  
He left the room, floating as if in a dream, and went to his own. But when he went to drop it, his fingers tightened. They held true. They wouldn't let go for anything.  
  
He heard soft footsteps padding behind him, but he wouldn't look. He knew it was her. She was stubborn, and she didn't like to hide. He felt himself tensing, ready to push her away again, ready to hold her at arm's length until she got the message. But when he opened his mouth to spit something at her, the words that came out were “I can't keep it.”  
  
She appeared beside him. One hand took the shirt and the other touched his fingers. There it was again, that bone-surging power that burned his veins raw. But he couldn't enjoy it now. Now it scared him. It scared him shitless. It was her touch that made him finally release it, bring his shaking hand to press against his stomach.  
  
He turned his head and watched as she lifted the shirt to her nose, as she inhaled and closed her eyes. And then she nodded. “I'll take care of it,” she murmured, her voice raw, scraped over the rocks and crags on the edge of the beach.  
  
He expected her to say more, to touch him again, maybe to wrap an arm around him. And he knew in that moment that if she did, he would stay. He would stay with her. But she didn't. She was stubborn and she was an optimist, but she also valued herself. She had her eyes wide open now, and she knew when all she'd get were bruises, no matter how hard she clung. She looked up and met his gaze for one moment, one long moment that lasted through the ages. And then she turned and walked away.  
  
Thoughts. Those damned thoughts again. He sank down and sat on the edge of his bed, holding the thoughts at bay, but it was hard to do that when everything else was so numb, when you realized that the only thing keeping you from being a walking corpse was the fact that you _could_ think.  
  
He should leave. He should pack and leave. But Colton was already gone. That was going to be hard enough to explain to the others, how quickly he'd left. They could use his sister, of course, use her as a distraction, say that something had suddenly gotten worse and that he had no choice but to leave, but what if they contacted him? Would he verify it?  
  
No, that was ridiculous. Something told Phil that even when someone _did_ inevitably call him – maybe Hollie, after she drummed up her courage – Colton was never going to reply.  
  
He could do the same. He could break from them, sever all connections right down the middle, pretend that this week never happened, pretend that those _years_ had never happened before then. But faces came to mind, Heejun's in particular. Heejun was a stubborn ass. He was too damn loyal to everyone around them to just let someone he cared about break off. He'd follow Phil to the ends of the earth until he opened his mouth and talked.  
  
There was a sudden itching inside of him, a desperate desire to go back in time just a couple of years, to when the most important part of his day was music. Just creating. Just singing. Singing for a bigger audience than he'd ever dreamed of. How all that mattered was playing his guitar and growling out his songs, and the only reason that audience mattered was because he had to share his voice with someone, _needed_ to, because if he didn't get it out he'd rip himself apart from the inside.  
  
He wanted to remember what it felt like when life wasn't complicated. When his blood still raced a little faster as he turned the corner when he walked to Hannah's dorm because she was the only one that got him, that made it clear it was _okay_ to be him. When girls weren't dancing around and telling him that maybe it was okay if you forgot someone's gender, forgot what society was busy blabbing about in their conservative columns, and just fell in love with a person's soul, but didn't prepare you for what happened if that soul was fragile enough to break under your touch. When _life made sense_.  
  
He realized that his cell phone was in his hands. He turned it over, examined it from every angle, and listened to the quiet words in the back of his head. At some point his thumb slid across the screen, found a face in the phone book, and highlighted it.  
  
When he pressed the phone to his ear, he listened to the long drone of the ringer as the call went through, the drone that sounded like the tolling of church bells, though he couldn't decide whether the bells were for a funeral or a celebration. They stretched out endlessly in indecision. He wondered how long he would have to wait before they gave out.  
  
Finally, silence. A soft crackling. And then a quiet voice. “...hello?”  
  
Phil closed his eyes and let that word, those two syllables, wash over him like rain. “Hey, Hannah.” He was crying again, he realized, but he talked easily through the tears, hid them well under the growl of his tone. He swore to himself that he'd never feel them go down his cheeks again. “How are you?”  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Elise took over damage control, as she always did. When the group returned, she smoothed out the cracks and told the appropriate lies. Yes, Colton had left. Schyler was having post-surgery complications, some kind of really bad infection, and his mother had told him it was best if he came home immediately, just in case. No, they shouldn't call him, since he had a twelve hour drive ahead of him and he'd only gotten started an hour before. Yes, Phil was fine, just sequestered in his locked bedroom talking to somebody on his phone. No, she didn't know who it was.  
  
No, Erika, her eyes weren't puffy from crying. Yes, it was allergies.  
  
She helped get Hollie comfortable on the couch and made her some green tea, even though the younger girl wouldn't look her in the eye and nearly dropped the mug from how badly her hands were shaking. She apologized to Skylar and accepted a hug. She waved Erika off and put her in a maternal mindset, to take care of the rest of the issues regarding getting Hollie home since she wasn't going to be driving any time soon. And then she went to her bedroom and curled up in a ball on her side and stared unblinkingly at the wall.  
  
The knock came maybe five minutes in, and though she didn't say a word the door opened anyway. Heejun watched her from the frame. “Hey.” Of course he didn't ask if he could come in. Just did anyway, closing the door to a crack behind him. “How are you?”  
  
“I'm good,” she murmured. She didn't even try to sit up. She knew he wouldn't be offended. “Tired.”  
  
“Mm.” He perched on the edge of her bed and looked down at her, his glasses drooping a little on his nose. “How are you, really?”  
  
Elise blinked. She wrinkled her brow. “I'm...fine. Just tired.”  
  
He smiled. “I'm not surprised. You've been running around taking care of everybody.”  
  
She watched his face closely.  
  
“I still can't stop thanking you for coming through like that when Hannah broke up with Phil. I feel like you really...you really kind of reminded him that it all wasn't lost, y'know? That he could totally get back with her. But also that, like...it was okay if he didn't. That, like, maybe there were better things out there.”  
  
She looked away. She had to or she'd start crying.  
  
“Things that might maybe...be worth more of his time? I'unno.”  
  
“Maybe that was a mistake,” she murmured. “Maybe he wasn't as ready for those things as I thought.”  
  
“Not your fault.” Heejun was watching her just as closely, she realized. “You just did what you needed to, you know? And it was cool. You really...rallied him and Colton both. God, their lives have sucked lately. And I feel like you really just came out of nowhere and made it a little better for a while, for both of them.”  
  
She closed her eyes. “...how long have you known?”  
  
“Since the night it rained. Since he got you to help Colton.” He was almost whispering now, but he sounded so matter-of-fact about it, so casual. “I got up for a sec, and I heard something in the living room, and the three of you were – hey, hey, stop.” The second she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow he touched her shoulder, but it only made her burrow deeper. “What are you doing?”  
  
“It must have made you sick,” she said, her words muffled in the pillowcase.  
  
“Sick? What? Why the heck would it make me sick?” He sounded so legitimately confused that she peeked over her shoulder, saw the way he had his head cocked to the side like a bloodhound.  
  
“Well, I...I thought you...might have seen-”  
  
“Why does it matter what I saw?” Heejun asked, a little laugh on his tone. “Since it wasn't any of my business anyway? ...it actually made some things make a hell of a lot more sense, when I really thought about it.”  
  
Elise wrinkled her brow. She started to sit up on her elbows. “Did you tell anybody?”  
  
Heejun rolled his eyes. “Not my business. Remember? Geez, Elise, you're dumb sometimes.” As he finally slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose again he sighed. “Look, you were happy when you finally figured it out. You _all_ were. You were fucking glowing like the surface of the _sun_ that night before we all went out to the club, every _one_ of you! I mean, Colton and Phil were trying to find reasons to get me out of the room like they were on a honeymoon or something, and-”  
  
“I cannot believe you're just sitting there talking about this like it was no big deal,” Elise said softly.  
  
“Okay, you're right, I'm sometimes not good at matters of sensitivity.” A pause. “...okay, I'm _never_ good at them, but that's not the point.”  
  
“No, I mean...you're talking like this is normal. Like stuff like this happens every day or whatever.”  
  
Heejun blinked. He stared at her blankly. “...yeah?”  
  
Elise blinked too. “...well, it doesn't. Phil could basically get stoned if anybody found out.”  
  
“So we don't tell the bigoted assholes.” The words were a little clumsy in his slight accent, adorably so, and it almost made her want to smile. “Big deal. I didn't wanna invite them to my birthday party anyway.”  
  
She looked over Heejun's face, trying to see if he was joking, but his face was always so blank and his voice so dry that it was impossible for her to tell. And then she started looking a little deeper, for why it was so simple for him to talk about. “...have you...ever been involved in something like this before?”  
  
He shook his head. “No. Not really involved in much at all.”  
  
She tried to remember if she'd ever seen Heejun look a little too long at the girls on Idol. Or the boys, for that matter. If he ever blushed during a rehearsal when things got a little risque or when the drinking got out of hand. If he held on a little too long when he hugged someone.  
  
“But that's not the point.” He turned to face her, one leg slung up on the bed and the other planted firmly on the floor. “The point is Colton's gone. Phil's locked in his room for the first time this whole trip. And you're in here looking like Boo Radley.”  
  
The pain was still too fresh, but she'd cried so much in the past hour that her tear ducts needed time to recuperate. She blinked her dry, puffy eyes a few times. “...you can probably guess what happened. Do you think anyone else knew?”  
  
He looked at the door before murmuring. “Hollie suspected you and Colton. But as far as I can tell everybody's just talking about when Phil's gonna bite the bullet and get back with Hannah.”  
  
She was so used to the spasms of her heart now that it didn't surprise her when it suddenly thrashed at those words. She nodded slowly.  
  
“Anyway...look, I didn't mean to rehash all that or pull up some grimy backstory. I just...” He reached out again and gently touched her arm. “The whole reason I showed up here's 'cuz I wanted to know if you were okay.”  
  
“Not Phil?” she asked.  
  
“I can jimmy a locked door open. It's got a hole. All you do's get a paperclip and...okay, all that aside, no, not Phil. You. Everybody's so busy letting you take care of them that sometimes they forget you've gotta run outta steam at some point. So I figured that was my job.”  
  
She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed right beside him, though her heart was suddenly so full that she couldn't look at him straight on. “...thank you, Heejun.”  
  
He nodded. And then he waited.  
  
It took her a few moments to realize what he was waiting on. “I'm...I'm not...okay.” She didn't want to lie to him. Not when he was here, seeking her out, leaving his best friend to sort through his thoughts and pain alone. She couldn't cheapen his concern by just telling him what he might rather want to hear. And besides, she had a feeling that he wouldn't accept it either. “I don't know...if I'm gonna be okay for a long time. But now that I've realized it, come to terms with it...maybe I can start taking the steps to getting there.”  
  
“What're those steps?” he asked quietly, his tone more serious than she'd ever heard it.  
  
She breathed out a soft, bitter laugh. “I don't fucking know. One day at a time. Maybe go back to my hometown for a while, surround myself with people that actually give a shit about me, that I don't...have to fix every single day. Spend some time trying to fix me instead.”  
  
He nodded. “I think you owe yourself that.”  
  
“Owe myself what? Time to fix me?”  
  
“That.” He shrugged. “Mostly time to figure out how to be happy. 'Cuz you deserve it.”  
  
For a moment she closed her eyes again, but this time there was less pain and more...more what? Hope? Optimism? No, those words were too cheery. Just the feeling that maybe everything wasn't just worthless bullshit. She couldn't guarantee it, but God, there was a chance, wasn't there? And the fact that someone could look her in the eye, could tell her to her face that she deserved to know how to be happy...she shivered. “Do I, though? Do I really?”  
  
Heejun touched her hand. She opened her eyes and met his serious gaze. “You do.”


	31. Chapter 31

He'd spent a few hours there on the side of the road, first crying and then napping, before a particularly loud semi blew a tire right in front of his car and the sound jarred him awake, and then finally even writing, trying to get his thoughts to make sense before he lost them all. Driving was a pretty straight shot after he cleaned up the busted Starbucks in his floorboard, and by the time he got home, it was a little after one in the morning. All the lights were off in his house, and he was thankful his Jeep was in a quiet mood that night, that he didn't have to worry about a loud transmission waking anyone up.  
  
Colton tried his hardest to be quiet as he came inside. He dropped his suitcase in the living room and wandered into the kitchen, where he paused and stared at the calendar. There was a big circle on Schyler's chemo start date, he realized, one where an appointment had been made and everything. Jesus, he felt out of the loop. They hadn't followed up with him about her surgery since he'd called them the night that...that he...  
  
He felt the pull of his heart. He felt it pulling him straight toward the stairs. He stared at them for a few long moments of silence before he breathed a sigh and began to climb them.  
  
Schyler always slept with her bedroom door open. He came inside and slowed as he approached her bed. She was sleeping, of course, but somehow that made her seem even more gaunt. Weak. The streetlights casts a pale light over her face and highlighted the depth of her cheekbones, the pallor of her complexion. He expected to see her sleeping in one of their dad's football jerseys, but he realized with a shock that she was sleeping in one of his v-neck t-shirts that she always teased made him a hipster, something that fit her changed torso almost perfectly.  
  
He let the first few tears drip down his cheeks without shame. He sat in her desk chair and leaned forward, tenting his hands and resting his lips against them as he watched her. There was a slight panic rushing just under his skin, but he realized he could hold it at bay. That he _needed_ to hold it at bay. To acknowledge that yes, it was there, and that it was important, but also that it couldn't control him. That he was the one in charge.  
  
He'd been hiding from this. He'd been scared to let himself feel so much.  
  
She shifted, eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated on whatever she was dreaming about, and Colton smiled. This was so strange, a total shift on their relationship as siblings. He remembered when they were young, him eight and her maybe four or five, and how sometimes he'd wake up to find her standing there at the side of his bed, her teddy bear dangling from her hand. She never tried to wake him. She was patient. It was like she felt that since he was her big brother, since he loved her more than anything in the world, he'd know when it was time to wake up. He'd feel when she was in trouble and would always come to save her. Sometimes he'd pretended to be frustrated by it, but God, there wasn't anything better than being able to protect her from everything, even if it was just the scary monsters that lived under her bed. How many times had he come to her bedroom and planted his Batman action figure right here, right in this chair, where it could beat up all the creatures that came out to get her?  
  
He could make everything better then. Now he couldn't do a thing.  
  
When her breathing changed, became less smooth, he quirked a brow. And then she opened her eyes. She frowned at him for a long moment before she began to sit up. “Colt?”  
  
“Hey, Schye,” he whispered.  
  
Her eyes began to widen then. “ _Colton_.” She sat up and reached out for just a moment before pressing her hand against her stomach. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”  
  
He nodded. “I missed you.”  
  
She huffed. “You're supposed to be in Florida for another week.”  
  
“I'm stubborn,” he murmured. “And I had a little sister to see. So sue me.”  
  
“You were _supposed_ to see everybody else-”  
  
“I saw plenty,” he interrupted. “And now I'm home. And that's the way it's going to be, whether you like it or not.”  
  
She rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone. The harsh light from it as it came to life marked the dark smudges under her eyes more sharply. “Jesus, it's almost one-thirty. When'd you get in? I knew I went to bed _early_ , but I didn't think-”  
  
“Half an hour ago,” he murmured. He rubbed at his eyes. “I left around...around ten or so.”  
  
He watched the way she turned her eyes back to him, could almost read the hesitation in them as she framed her thoughts. “How was the drive?” she asked. “Must have been sixteen hours long if you just got in. Did you have some car trouble or something?”  
  
He dipped his head and sighed through his nose. “No, no car trouble. Just a lot of things to take care of.”  
  
For a minute, he thought she'd be afraid to push him, and that made something inside of him sink. Schyler pushed whenever she wanted to. She was the only one who could really make him figure out what the hell was going on inside of him, and more often than not she figured it out before he ever could. Colton had a trace of empathy, but Schyler had the mind of a psychologist or a counselor, and she used it as often as possible. But their relationship had become more fragile, more tentative, over the past few months, from the first time he saw her after visiting Elise's apartment. From the day she absolutely refused to talk about herself and what she was going through. He didn't want that. He wanted the opposite of that. But then she sat up and planted her feet on the floor and tilted her head to the side, and his eyes widened a little when she spoke. “What sort of things?”  
  
He pressed his lips together. “...some God things. He and I...we, uh...we haven't been on speaking terms for a while.”  
  
Schyler nodded. “I wondered where your necklace was.”  
  
His necklace. He instinctively reached up, touched the center of his breastbone where he was so used to it resting, but there was nothing there. He closed his eyes. He wondered if it would stay forever and forgotten in some little corner of that beach house. “I've always been too literal for my own good,” he murmured with a forced chuckle. “It's sitting somewhere back in Florida.”  
  
“Do you want a new one?” she asked carefully.  
  
He nodded. There was no hesitation this time. Just a focus on the broad openness in his chest, the feeling of peace. “Yeah.”  
  
“So we'll get you one.” Schyler smiled at him. “Run down to Lifeway or something tomorrow.”  
  
“I'd like that.”  
  
More silence. More framing of thoughts. “So you left them because you missed me?”  
  
All at once he felt every cell of his body stretch out, reach toward the window, wanting greedily to touch smooth tanned skin or short curled hair. He contained it. “There were other reasons,” he murmured. “But you were a big part of it.”  
  
“Why don't I believe you?” she asked with a soft laugh. But he recognized that her words weren't accusing or hurt. Just teasing, companionable. Offering him the safety of their sibling relationship, where they'd barely ever hidden anything from each other.  
  
 _Listen to your heart. Follow it._ His fingers tangled up in themselves, rested in his lap. He studied the floor. “Maybe because...you're a good sister. And that means you know me better than I know myself sometimes. Know the things I don't like to say.”  
  
“Talk to me, Colt,” she said quietly. “What's on your mind?”  
  
He had a strange thought, then, as he glanced up at her: it made sense that she held Elise in such high esteem. They were so similar in so many ways. He drew in a thick breath. “...ask me later. Please, Schye.”  
  
She watched him carefully before giving a slow nod. “Okay.”  
  
He should have felt some sense of relief, but he didn't. He looked down again.  
  
“Did you...do any writing down there?”  
  
He breathed a quiet laugh. “Not as much as I should have.”  
  
“Well, c'mon.” She reached out and grabbed his knee, gave it an enthusiastic shake. “You gotta give me _that_ , at least, don't you?”  
  
Those sad, little lyrics on that folded notebook paper, crammed in his pocket. “It's...it's really not worth hearing.”  
  
“I don't care.” And then she smiled. “Please?”  
  
He'd denied her so much in six months, even by doing everything she professed to want. He rustled around for the paper. “I...I passed it around a little up there,” he murmured. “Was told I needed to...work on the lyrics a little.”  
  
“So I'll help. We haven't done something like that in ages.”  
  
But there were more lyrics now. Ones he'd scribbled down after his nap. They felt just as raw and tender as the ones above them, and he held on a little too tightly when Schyler tried to take them from him. But she was patient. After a second or two of clutching he breathed out slowly, forced his hand to relax, and let the paper slip from his grasp.  
  
She leaned over the words, trying to read them in the faint streetlights from her window, and Colton fought to keep from fidgeting as he waited. Time stretched out until he felt like he'd been taken with it, like he was a rubber band about to break. And then she gestured for him to sit beside her. “Do you have any music in mind?” she asked as he perched on her mattress.  
  
“Yeah,” he murmured. “A little bit of a melody.”  
  
“Show me.”  
  
Colton cleared his throat. His voice was quiet and breathy, barely even stable. “We break...when we fall too hard. Lose faith...when we're torn apart. Don't say...you're too far gone. It's a shaaa-aaa-aa-aa-aaame...”  
  
Schyler cupped his elbow when his voice began to break apart. He pressed on.  
  
“I'm still standing here...no, I didn't disappear...now the lights are on...see, I was never gone...” She rested her head on his shoulder, sang a soft and tentative lower harmony with him. “I let go of your hand...to help you understand...with you all along...oh, I was never gone...”  
  
The strange thing about peace was that sometimes the space inside of your chest felt more like emptiness instead. Colton dipped his head and tried to bite back his tears because Schyler didn't need to see them, didn't need to feel like she had to fix him instead, but before he knew it they were coursing straight down his cheeks.  
  
“Tell me, Colt,” she whispered as she hugged him tightly. “Please. You'll make yourself sick if you don't.”  
  
“I can't stand it.” He sucked in a wet breath as the sobs came harder, louder. “I can't stand the thought...that I took it from you.”  
  
“Me? Took what?”  
  
“Your _future!_ ” Colton held onto her for dear life. God, it had been so long since he'd had a hug without complications, without feelings lingering just under the surface. He buried himself in the safety. “I took Idol from you! I had no right!”  
  
“You didn't take anything from-”  
  
“No, Schyler, I did. It was your audition – your _fucking_ audition – and I just had to waltz in there and let the judges goad me into singing, didn't I?” When she didn't interrupt again, maybe from shock from the curse, maybe from belief that he was right, Colton fed his misery into every word he'd been dying to say for years now. “I went so far. But it was all useless. All stolen. Taken from you. God, what kind of man does that make me? What kind of brother? I took any exposure it could've given you and kept it all for myself.”  
  
“Colton, I'll have time. I can get exposure on my own, I promise. I have plenty of time to-”  
  
“But what if you _don't?_ ” He grabbed her by the arms and broke the embrace, stared straight into her eyes. “What if this...this cancer comes back? What if you don't have any time left?”  
  
“Will you listen to me?” She was smiling, even laughing a little, and it took Colton so by surprise that he actually shut his mouth. “God, Colton, if I die tomorrow, I won't regret a second of how I spent my life. With one exception.” She squeezed his arms. “That I made you afraid to tell me all that.”  
  
Colton stared at her. He was torn between letting his tears dry up from relief or crying all the harder from the sheer thought of losing the woman beside him.  
  
She grabbed the piece of paper and waved it in his face. “This is brilliant. It is. All you've gotta do is polish it a little, grab some nice chords, and do you know what you have? A hit single. I'm telling you.” She put it on his leg and looked down at it again. “People need to hear it. There's so much...honesty in it. Dragged out from the depths of you, you know? I can tell. And so will everyone else. And that's why...you need to do it.” Schyler shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “If only one of us ever gets a recording contract, Colton...I think I might want it to be you. Because I don't know what happened in the week since you left, but there's something...something different. Something deeper. And that means that the music you're gonna write and make...is going to be absolutely incredible.”  
  
Colton dipped his head and sat there in the silence, feeling the emptiness revert back into peace, feeling his heart flake off a few more fragile layers of scar tissue as it pumped, raw and hurting and yet somehow still on the mend. “...can I...tell you what happened?” he whispered.  
  
Schyler rested her head on his shoulder again. When he was ready to speak, she was ready to listen.


	32. Chapter 32

It'd been a long, grueling hour and eighteen minutes, if his watch was telling him the truth. He was covered in sweat. Dripping. His legs were killing him and his neck was aching from headbanging just a little too heavily during his first song. But now the lights were turning down. Now the curtains were being drawn on the infectious energy, calming it to a more manageable level. Colton sat down behind the grand piano on stage and took a long drink from his water bottle. And then he leaned forward. “There are two kinds of very important relationships in the world,” he said into the microphone. “Those that are there to get you through a difficult season in your life...” He'd said it several times now, over the months of trying to make it all make sense. His chest still ached every time. “...and those that never leave you.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “This song is for the latter.”  
  
He pressed his long fingers into the keys, his shoulders arching with the intent of keeping his pressure light and soft, with only a slight build in volume. “...lights off...”  
  
The crowd swelled. The song was instantly recognizable to the arena full of people here. They'd memorized it. They'd sang it at their worship services. That mere thought made him smile wider.  
  
“...a shot in the dark. We get lost...when we're playin' a part. We're laying blame...like we know what's best. It's a shaaa-a-a-a-aaame...”  
  
There was a click, and something caught the light as it slid across the stage and tapped against his shoe. He glanced down and his heart stopped. It was a necklace. A crucifix necklace.  
  
 _His_ crucifix necklace.  
  
Colton's eyes shot over the audience, and though he couldn't see them all, he could swear that he saw a head of blonde curls at the edge of the front section. He caught his breath for a moment, his fingers faltering on the keys, and tried to recover.  
  
For a long few seconds he didn't play. The crowd cheered, as if they thought he was looking for a reaction before he'd play on, but he didn't take his eyes off the Elise specter until he realized he wasn't breathing.  
  
He looked back at the piano and prayed for strength. He played on.  
  
“We break...when we fall too hard, lose face...when we're torn apart. Don't say...you're too far gone. It's a shaaa-aa-a-aaa-aaame...”  
  
He didn't want to risk a second glance back at her. He hadn't seen her in months – in a full year, he realized – but just the sight of her hair, just the way the lights were playing across the highlights...she still affected him in ways that he didn't even want to consider. Just looking at her, it was like a day hadn't gone by, like nothing had changed. Like he was still hers. And he desperately did not need that. He needed peace, tranquility, and Elise shook all of that from his bones.  
  
He couldn't help himself. He looked.  
  
She met his eyes for a solid few seconds, and in those moments he remembered everything he tried to remember to forget. Not just the taste of her lips or the feel of her breasts in his hands. Also the soft croon of her voice as she sang. The gentle sparkle in her eyes when she smiled. The warmth of her arms when she embraced him. The gaze held. And then she looked to the side. He did too.  
  
Phil and Hannah. There. Right there, right at the other edge of the front.  
  
That was harder. There was a steady awareness in Phil's eyes that had come from hearing the morphed first verse, the one that he knew and understood better than any other human in this world. Colton felt choked. The piano owned his attention now.  
  
“...I'm still standing here.” He closed his eyes. “No, I didn't disappear.” He felt a warmth surround him, like a hug, and he leaned into it as he played. “Now the lights are on...see, I was never gone.” The warmth was so sweet, so loving, that he felt the burn of tears in the back of his throat.  
  
“I let go of your hand...to help you understand...” _Sing through the tears,_ he thought. Holding them back would only choke his words. “...I'm with you all along...oh, I was never gone...”  
  
He knew Phil and Hannah were back together. He'd even heard that they were engaged now. And that was good. They were fantastic for each other, even he had to admit. She was strong. She could calm him in ways that Colton never could. But he did find himself wondering if Phil would ever confess what happened that summer when he owned a young man's soul, when he drowned himself in two human beings to hide from the perfect storm inside of himself. What truly transpired in that beach house when they gave everything to each other. When every last one of them was broken.  
  
He wondered if either Phil or Elise had been made whole again, like he was.  
  
 _But are you really whole? You can't look at them without choking on your own air. You dream about how it was being with them, back when it was perfect in every way, back before everything hit the fan. Your body keens for it when the sun goes down. And you really think you're healed and complete again?_  
  
These words didn't come from him. He knew they didn't. But they still stung.  
  
As he pushed forward in the song he'd first wrote for his lovers, the one that Schyler had helped him complete with a little help from God when she earned every letter of that songwriting credit, he looked out at them again. Phil turned to murmur something in Hannah's ear. She nodded. And then they turned and began to wade their way through the crowds, to the back door. Colton looked at Elise and saw that she was doing the same.  
  
He too wanted to leave. He wanted to curl up somewhere and die. But he gave those desires to God, the maker and protector of his heart. He thought on the positives. On the finely crafted letters of the single's name that Schyler had inked into her skin after the six-month check-up that declared her cancer-free. On the mail that filled his P.O. box, telling him of just how many people had found reason to make it through the night with his songs playing on their stereos. On the fact that it had been twenty-eight whole days since he'd felt the overwhelming urge to throw something across the room, to rip something apart with his bare hands just to forget how sometimes he still hated himself, even if it was just for an hour, even if it was just from a dark force that stoked the coldness until it overflowed.  
  
His bed would be cold tonight, and his heart would ache, but he would make it through. He would. He wouldn't be weak enough to listen to Phil's second album again, or Elise's first single. He'd pull out his journal and talk to God, ask Him for a reminder of just how deeply he was loved, and he would receive it. He'd keep his eyes on the ground instead of on the pretty things that could assuage his temporary loneliness. He'd make it through every day until it turned into walking through every day and then maybe even into dancing through it instead. And it would make sense. And he prayed it would all be worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I joke with my husband that it's actually impossible for me to write a happy ending because I'm so influenced by American authors, those authors that wrote in the 20's and 30's and 40's where everything is sad and goes wrong and is bad and in the end it's STILL bad. But sometimes there's just this faint little glimmer of hope, just sparkling in the distance, and you think that maybe, just maybe, if you'd had about 5,000 more words, you would've seen the characters reach it. Or not.
> 
> That's what this is. I could write you a whole lecture on why I chose to end it this way, on why I ended their relationship, on why I opted to have God not just miraculously heal Colton's heart and soul in one night, but all that really matters is that I tried my hardest to write this as realistically as possible. I might be a hopeless romantic and a diehard optimist, but I can't use that side of me to make everything perfect for my characters. I can't. It's impossible. So what we have...is realism. And the hope that maybe everything will be okay one day.
> 
> I had the idea for a sequel in my head, honestly. What would happen if these characters ran into each other ten, fifteen years later, each with their own lives. If something could happen again. If this time maybe it could even work. But I'm not sure I'll write it. I think I might just keep it in my head, where it can stretch and expand and live without hurting me too badly.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed "A Place to Hide." Now your challenge is to go and listen to "A Messenger" and apply every single song to this story, because I have way too much fun with that when it comes on. "Scars" and "In and Out of Time" are easy matches, of course. And "Never Gone," which has been there from the beginning.


End file.
